Hotel California
by Meredith T. Tasaki
Summary: AU, post GITF. Rose is back in London, and she plans to make the best of it. But what made the Doctor act so strangely? What did he see in that girl from the fireplace? And what is the song that keeps playing in the back of her mind? Complete
1. But They Just Can't Kill the Beast

Summary: AU, post-GITF. Rose is back in London, and she plans to make the best of it. But what made the Doctor act so strangely? What did he see in that girl from the fireplace? And _what _is the song that keeps playing in the back of her mind?

Notes-slash-apologies:

This story was inspired by a challenge by one JCL TennantPiper over on 'A Teaspoon and an Open Mind', which was, essentially, to put Reinette on the TARDIS and have her be very mean to Rose and the Doctor too besotted to notice. Notice I say "inspired by" and _not _"a response to". This is because the challenge struck me in an entirely different (and, I believe, unintended) way. That is, instead of an opportunity to vent fangirl-rage on Reinette (not that there's necessairily anything wrong with that), I saw a very interesting question: what the heck would have gotten into the Doctor? (An excellent question, I'd argue.)

There are many excellent reasons why I should not be writing this fic. Here are only a few:

-I never actually saw JCL TennantPiper's challenge; all I've seen are the responses.

-I'm pretty sure this isn't exactly what she was looking for. The focus is completely different, for one thing, and that's just the beginning, 'cos I'm afraid I'm too old to do a pure hate-fic anymore. (And despite initial appearances, this is **_NOT_** in any way a Reinette hate-fic. I don't even know the girl. I assure you, she barely appears at all...)

-Most glaringly, I've never even bloody _seen_ 'The Girl in the Fireplace'. I've been trying my damnedest not to get _spoiled_ for series 2, 'cos I live in America and may yet get to see it some day.

Only logical conclusion: I am completely insane. I am out of my bloody _mind._

Fortunately, I came to terms with that a long, long time ago.

Therefore, I ask you to accept this fic with the above considerations in mind, and apologise fervently for any (inevitable) lapses in characterization/Brit-speak/continuity/plot. On the other hand, you have been warned, so any undue haranguing for said lapses will be met with a "Yeaaah... got that wrong. Sorry. Go play in traffic somewhere, would you?"

Thank you. Now, our feature presentation.

(-)

_But they just can't kill the beast_

Rose Tyler flopped down on the rickety cheap hotel bed with a sigh. She could try to call him again... but if he hadn't answered before, why should he start now?

_Oh, no. Now he's got 'is rich little French floozy, what does **he** care if he gets the time a little wrong? Only a** little** bit off... only a **small** problem... Like the fact that 'alf the city's searchin' for me! Son of a bitch!_

She moaned and threw her head into the pillow. _I don't mean that. Yeah I do. What the hell HAPPENED to him?!_

_"As if a silly little thing like you matters to him now he has **me** here... You thought you had a hold over him, didn't you? You thought you had power. Well, you were wrong. Go back to your grungy little city where you **belong**."_

And then-- _"I want to go home. I'm sick of this. I'm sick of her, and I'm sick of you being like this, an' I want to go home."_

_"Well. If you're sure."_

And here she was. Here she bloody was. Okay! Maybe she'd asked for it. But she hadn't expected him to actually-- she hadn't thought he-- she'd thought he knew her BETTER than that!

She'd thought _he_ was better than that.

Oh, maybe she was just jealous. Except that French tramp WAS a bitch. That was way beyond dispute. She'd seemed okay at first, but the second she stepped on the TARDIS--

_"Rose, Rose, I did it! Fantastic idea, Mickey-- let me introduce you all--"_

--That peroxide comment, and the ice cream incident... No, she was a bitch.

And she was the only one who could see it. Damn it.

_So now I'm stuck in 2005, an' I've gotta hide until-- when was the last time I was home? March? How the hell am I gonna get a job? Can I use my real name? How can I hide from everybody I know?_

_Damn it, I'm gonna have to move to Cardiff or somefin', aren't I? No, that wouldn't be far enough-- maybe the States? New York. Don't think nobody notices ANYBODY in New York. Hang on, do they have any jobs there that aren't Broadway or prostitution? There's got to be. Starbucks, they're all coffee fiends, aren't they? I could be a coffee girl. Don't they have a fancy word for it an' all? I thought I heard-- yeah. Barista or somefin'. That is the lamest thing I've ever heard. It's **coffee**!_

_Wait. I don't think I can use my passport. Damn it._

She hit her pillow, viciously, which at least fluffed it up a bit. _Son of a bitch. All his fault. If he's just gonna dump me for his French bitch girlfriend, he could've at LEAST put me down in the right TIME!_

_Why didn't he even put me down in the right time?! It's wrong, it's all wrong, I'll swear that it's wrong..._

_I'll swear that it's wrong._ She was certain of it, suddenly. _It's wrong... _

_But what can I do about it? Even if he was here, he wouldn't listen to me. Hasn't been for weeks. Dunno if he ever really did before that, either._

_But it's wrong..._

She moaned and turned over in a huff, huddling up in a ball. _I'll drive myself crazy. I can't think about this anymore tonight. I've gotta get some sleep..._

She turned her thoughts forcefully away from him and settled into uneasy dreams.

_...Wrong, all wrong, she'd swear that it's wrong..._

_Ballroom, grand cotillion, and she's standing on the sidelines, like she always, always has. They don't want her here. Never have. Never will. She's the harbringer of disaster, isn't she? Something that never should have been, a scandal, a disgrace, a cataclysm. But so damnably **useful** at times it had to drive them crazy._

_Didn't mean they'd listen to her, though._

_"Why don't you loosen up?" says the one she used to know, offering her a glass of punch. "It's a party."_

_"The world is burning," she answers. "This isn't the time."_

_"So melodramatic. So the Daleks got a planet."_

_"**Five** planets."_

_"Five planets. None of them were **advanced**. And it's not like it's anything **new**. Daleks destroy things all the time; why do we suddenly care **now**? It always works itself out."_

_Works itself out. Oh, yeah, right. All that work she's put in, just so idiots like this can stand back and think it's magic. Damnnation._

_But that **is** the goal, isn't it? To make the world safe so future generations can't even understand that the danger was real. That's the goal, always has been, and that's all right._

_But the danger is here now, and it might not be avertable--_

_--Reinette across the ballroom as the music changes, a strange smile on her face--_

_--lightning in the sky--_

_--Lightning in the sky, cutting violently between the clouds like a thrown knife, flashes of sickly brilliance in the night. Running back toward the city, throat closed with dread, she'd made a mistake--_

_Some way to ford the river, **she should have realized**-- maybe try to wade across, **she should have known**--_

_Another flash of lightning, and those weren't logs in the river. Those weren't logs._

_Another flash of lightning, and she'd gotten across the river somehow, and she was even wetter than before, and she could hear the screaming now, and flashes that weren't lightning, that were people becoming dead--_

_--stabbing at them with hideously primitive knives, or sometimes guns, or sometimes just their fists, all equally hopeless, but it was all they had left--_

_--how could she have thought they'd be so foolish-- how could she have thought that was their only weapon--_

_--wading back across the river, a dead hand brushing across her leg--_

_"It's the only way," he says, tears in his eyes, clutching his bleeding child to his chest. The trigger in his hand._

_"It's not a way. It won't solve anything!"_

_"No. It won't. I'm not looking for solutions. Siria died right in front of-- I'm not looking for solutions. I'm looking for all we have left. I'm looking for anything that can be salvaged. I'd rather die quick then by their hand. I'd rather this city go up than them take it. I'd rather take a few of them with me than die without fighting back... it's all that's left."_

_--the city in flames--_

_--alone in a box with no way out and the smell of blood and the crying of children and the dull buzz of electric lights and she's screaming in the next room and there's nothing she can do about it and she was screaming too when they put that needle in her veins and nobody's coming to rescue her 'cos she's the rescuer and even if they realized, it's too late it's always too late she's always two minutes too late these days and all the cities she's seen burn--_

_--fire, searing to her bones--_

_--in the next cell, she's still screaming--_

_"HOW COULD YOU HAVE DONE THIS TO ME?!"_

Rose bolted out of bed, screaming at the top of her lungs.

_Slow down-- slow down--_

She put a hand to her chest. Her heart was beating so loudly she thought it might deafen her. _What the hell?_

"Lady? You all right?" Someone was pounding at the door. It was hard to hear over her heartbeat and the music someone was playing next door.

"Yeah, nightmare," she called, throat sore. "Sorry."

"God Almighty. Thought you were bein' killed. She's all right!"

Rose took another deep breath. Her heart was getting better, but that music-- "Can you get someone to turn that down?"

"Turn _what_ down?"

"That music."

"..._What_ music?"

Rose shook her head, trying not to panic. "Can't you hear it? Some idiot next door--"

"Trust me, lady, only noise in here is _you_. Keep it down, would you? We're tryin' to get some _sleep_."

"What, in _this_ place?"

"Point is, shut _up_!"

She shook her head and focused on her breathing. That music... it wasn't going away. If it wasn't the guy next door...

Come to think of it... if she concentrated on it... there was something about it that was a little... familiar. She couldn't put her finger on it, though.

Somewhere it was coming from...

Haunting as hell, but she couldn't recognise it at all...

_It's wrong. It's all wrong. I'll swear that it's wrong._

_But what can I do about it **now**?_

She took a deep breath and lay back down. Tomorrow. She'd get a job, and she'd call him again, and she'd get a new motel room...

_Oh, child_... she thought vaguely, already drifting off again. _You think you can end this so easily...?_

(-)


	2. And Still Those Voices Are Calling

Summary: Rose, in London, in 2005, has cobbled together a life. But what happened to the Doctor? And what is the song that keeps playing in the back of her head?

Notes: I hereby disclaim all the songs mentioned in this chapter.

Things the notes to last chapter were too long to hold: this story is actually finished. So I'm afraid I can't respond to reviews or anything (which is actually against ffn policy now anyway-- fascists). All the chapter titles are from 'Hotel California'; looking up the lyrics might give you a _little_ bit of a head start. (Though it wouldn't give you the mood. It's a very atmospheric song.) If this tactic seems familiar, you've probably read Cryptile's "Hey Now Hey Now", which is a much better fic. I didn't even try to copy her structure; this is much more straightforward. If you haven't read it, make that next on your to-do list; her stuff is extraordinary. It's not that often I envy other writers.

I'd also like to reiterate that this is not a Reinette hate-fic. I know Rose hates the new girl, but that, for many reasons, doesn't mean anything. Now, there's a certain other character that gets some flack... but I don't dare reveal that yet. And... yeah. Done now.

(-)

_And still those voices are calling from far away_

"Is there a country song about this?" Rose asked, swinging her feet a little as she looked down at the floor.

Molly, her bespectacled, self-contained American coworker, glanced back at her, from her work tagging jumpers. "About what, exactly? Working in a department store?"

"No," Rose said. "About your... kind of boyfriend dumping you for a stupid French tart an' kicking you out of his-- place."

Molly blinked. "Well, that'd depend on how fussy you're gonna be about the 'French' part."

"Not very."

"Ah. Then yes, there are many, many songs about that. In fact-- maybe most of them. _Definitely_ most of them if you don't get gender-specific."

"Maybe I should start listening to it, then." She shot a stormy look down at the floor.

"'Well, you took my wife'," Molly sang, in a Southern drawl much more pronounced than her normal heavily diluted accent. "'And you took my kids...'"

"Oh, you're _kidding_ me."

"No, I'm serious. There's a million variations on it. 'I'm givin' up on love, 'cause love's given up on me'... That's the angry. One called 'There is No Arizona', that's more sad. Then you got the funny ones, the lonely ones, the pleading, the ass-whuppin'..."

"'Ass-whuppin'?" Rose asked, laughing.

"Been around near as long as country music. Something Dolly Parton did... Or was it Loretta Lynn? Hell if I know, it was _way_ before my time. Still, sixties or seventies, there was some song about how she'd whip this girl's ass if she tried to take her man. Well, not in those _words_, of course. I think it was called 'Fist City'. You can probably fill in the rest for yourself."

"Yeah, I think so," Rose said, and laughed again. "I would've loved to beat that tramp up."

"Yeah? What'd she do?" Molly glanced at her. "Besides the obvious."

"She's just so... I mean, she _hated_ me. She thought I was a threat. She called me stupid, poor, said I was obviously his stupid, uncultured slut he kept around 'cos he hadn't realized what a real woman could do for him... Oh, and of course this wasn't while he was _there_. No, while _he_ was around, she was all, 'Oh, Rose, isn't this delightful? Let's have tea and scones like you British do!' And he just-- _fell_ for it. I mean--"

She gritted her teeth. "Maybe it's stupid of me, 'cos we weren't-- he wasn't actually my boyfriend. We never... did anything like that. But the second she walks by, suddenly he's pouncin' all over her like a cat in heat! Just _ignores_ me, leaves me in the middle of nowhere with no way home just to go save-- pick her up. Just all of a sudden! An' she always makes all our arguments look like they're my fault, an' I just can't stand seein' him look like an idiot anymore, so I ask him to drop me off home and he just _does_. All the things we'd been through together, an' he just says, 'Well, if that's what you want, Rose. See you around.'"

"Wow," said Molly.

"Yeah." She kicked the counter. "Men."

"So I hear." Molly shook her head. "All gonads, no brains."

"But see, that's the thing that's drivin' me crazy. He was never like that before. _Never_."

Molly shook her head helplessly. "I wish I could help you," she said, "but this really isn't my area of expertise. I mean, I don't know the first bloody thing about relationships. Now, algebra, I could maybe help you."

Rose perked up. "Could you really? 'Cos I'm doin' some studiyin' for my A-levels, an'--"

"Your what?"

"A-levels. They're things you have to have to get into University. Here, at least."

"Ah." Molly nodded. "Yeah, I could maybe help you with some stuff, but I don't know if I've got the time. Between this and school, I've got a pretty full load."

"Ah, yeah." Rose belatedly remembered that Molly had a special scholarship, in law or something, that unfortunately didn't cover her living expenses. "Yeah, that must be hard. But I know London, right? Maybe we could go out for dinner of somefin, I can teach you how to get around town an' you can try to teach me some maths or history or-- anyfing, really. I mean, I'm not expectin' miracles, I'm not expectin' you to coach me all the way or somethin', but-- I learn easier when I actually _hear_ it some, you know? Not when I'm just readin' it in a book."

"Makes sense, yeah." Molly smiled hesitantly. "That's... probably a good idea, yeah. I could use a few friends. 'Specially ones who know London, so... yeah, I guess so."

"Great." Rose smiled at her and jumped off the counter. "By the way..."

"Yeah?"

"There's this... this song I keep hearin', in my head. I've got no idea where I heard it, but I just can't get it out of my head. It goes like..." Rose hummed a few bars of the melody, which was haunting enough as it was, _without_ being a constant half-heard presence in the back of her mind.

"'Head grew heavy and my sight grew dim, I had to stop for the night,'" Molly sang, nodding.

"You know it?! What _is _it? It's been driving me _mad_, not knowing."

"'Hotel California'. By a band called the Eagles, back in the seventies. My dad loved 'em. Had a tape of their live reunion show." She laughed, embarassed. "I loved that song so much I had him make a cassette of that one song, over and over. I was-- a bit crazy, yeah."

"_Oh_," said Rose, wondering what on Earth was going on. "Well. At least I know what it is now."

Even if she didn't know why she kept hearing it, over and over, in the back of her mind.

Right where the TARDIS used to sing.

(-)


	3. Wake You Up in the Middle of the Night

Notes: This one is shorter, I know. Chapter length is going to be a bit erratic. I'll try to post two at once on the shorter days, if I remember.

Since I have a little space for ranting: how is it that the stories you think are better get fewer reviews than the junk you posted when you were 13? And how can it be possible that I have stories that have more 'favorites' than reviews? If you're going to put a story in your 'Favorites' section, isn't more courteous and even more _convienient_ to do it by _leaving a review_? How _does_ one get reviews? Do I have to threaten to kill off Rose? No-- that wouldn't work thematically. Mickey? No, there's a scene with him at the end that is way too funny to cut. The Doctor? Hmm. Actually, I could probably knock off Ten without too much trouble. Should I threaten to do that? Would it work?

Of course it wouldn't. You know I won't. Still, it would be nice not to have to do such things. Not to _have_ to beg and cajole and threaten people to get them to leave you an opinion. I guess I'm not really one to talk, not being the most frequent reviewer these days myself-- but I still think that if you're gonna put something in your favorites section, you should at least leave a bloody review.

Okay. Done now. -resists temptation to beg for reviews; pretends to have more pride and artistic integrity than that; but wouldn't mind if someone occasionally took pity, not at all-

(-)

_Wake you up in the middle of the night, just to hear them say_

It took her a long time to get to sleep, these days. Probably because her subconscious knew what was coming.

_Her father lay dead on the ground, bloodless, life slowly going out of his eyes, and she'd been a fool, such a fool, and it was all her fault. The wind was fire, blowing ashes, and she looked up at the blood-red sky splashed everywhere with thick black smoke. Guns everywhere, and screaming, screaming, and all of them knew her name, and were screaming it as they died-- pleading, begging, helpless, confused, furious, worst of all, _**betrayed**_-- _

_Betrayed, everything a betrayal, because this was the way the universe _really_ worked, and there was no escaping it anymore, no delusions that she could fix--_anything_-- anything anymore. Everything burned, everything died, and she'd been fool enough to promise them--_

_Promise them to _save_ them, to _end_ this battle, back a thousand years ago when she'd been too daft to realize there was no such thing as salvation. And the battles always raged, and everyone lost. And cruelty of cruelties, she'd promised them life, and hope, when there was none left._

_Not for anyone._

_She got up and ran through the barren landscape, running like a coward across the scorched earth, around the blackened rubble, toward a few extra days' time before the galaxy burned. Toward a devil's bargain that was the only sembelance of hope she had._

_An arm shot out of the rubble and grabbed her ankle-- she tripped, and fell, and there was the burned and bloodied face staring out at her--_

_"WHY?"_

Rose woke up screaming, again, heartbeat thundering in her ears. She glanced at the clock; three thirty-four, as always. She hadn't needed to look. She always did anyway.

And the song, louder than ever in her mind, except now that she'd read the lyrics, she could remember what they said.

_"Welcome to the Hotel California..."_

"What are you trying to TELL me?!" she screamed.

_"Such a lovely place_

_(Such a lovely place)_

_Such a lovely face..."_

She focused on her breathing, trying to slow it down, beginning to get the faintest glimmers of an idea.

_"Living it up at the Hotel California_

_What a nice surprise_

_(What a nice surprise)_

_Bring your alibis..."_

"_Bring_..." Rose said. "Is it you? Do you want me back? _What are you trying to tell me_?"

There wasn't any answer.

Rose looked over at the clock. "Something's wrong. All I know is, something's _wrong_, and you're tryin' to tell me, and you're just doing _really_ badly at it."

No answer.

She shook her head. "Well, you'd better have a _damned_ good excuse, that's all I can say."

Then again, if she knew the TARDIS, and if she knew the Doctor-- both of which she was far less certain about than she was a month ago-- she would.

So. Something was wrong.

What the bloody hell was she supposed to _do_ about it?

(-)


	4. There She Stood in the Doorway

Notes: And the plot starts! Yay! And this is where you start to get an inkling of the _real_ reason I wrote this fic. It wasn't 'cause of Reinette, oh no no...

(-)

_There she stood in the doorway_

"You look tired," said Molly.

"Yeah," said Rose. "I haven't been sleeping too well."

"Have you tried, like, listening to music before you go to bed or something? That's supposed to help."

Rose laughed, bitterly. "I don't think that'd help me much. But thanks."

"Maybe if you-- oh. Hang on. Customer." Molly hurried away.

Molly, Rose reflected as she put her head in her hands, had just a _trifle_ too strong a work ethic for Rose's taste. Particularly today. Two cups of coffee, and she still hadn't raised herself out of the half-dream state, still hadn't been able to get the music even partway out of her head. It was as loud, today, as conversation, as loud as her own thoughts, and it was getting harder and harder to focus on anything else.

"...don't _know_ what color it's supposed to be, all she told me was the size, and do I _look_ like I know a lot about women's clothing?"

"No," Molly giggled. "I don't know. I'm not-- not that fashion-conscious, in the least. Even if I was, I don't know _what_ the hell's in style _this_ side of the pond. You know what, I might know who would, though."

Rose blinked sleepily, raising her head slightly. Something important had just happened, that she hadn't quite gotten a grasp on yet. Something very important, and very very obvious, that she'd understand _instantly_ if she were awake.

"She's right over here, at the counter. Rose?"

"_Rose??_"

A northern accent. A very familiar northern accent. And if she were awake she'd have known the second she heard it that it was--

Rose jerked upright as her brain finally caught up with itself. "_Doctor_?" she gasped, in pure disbelief. "But I thought-- I thought you-- didn't you say-- hang on, I guess this isn't-- how--?"

The Doctor glanced over at Molly with one of his most charming smiles. "What's your store's policy on employee lunch breaks?"

"I-- you get an hour, why--?"

"Good. Rose and I need to have a little talk." He beamed at Molly and strode over to Rose, linking their arms. "If you don't mind?"

"I-- how did you--" was all she could manage. Very, _very_ familiar, and so incredibly sweet, and probably so very, very wrong. "The timeline--"

"That would be one of the things we need to talk about," he said, escorting her out of the store. "Rose, _how did you get here_? This is the _wrong_ time, you're supposed to still be missing--"

"Yeah, _somebody_ got a bit careless," Rose said, with automatic bitterness, cursing the French tart in her mind. "I didn't know you were-- hang on, we _did_ come here, didn't we? With Jack. I took him on a shopping tour of London. You swanned off to do... whatever it is you do when you swan off. Hang on. You swanned off to come _here_. _God_, does time travel give you a headache."

"Not me. I'm built for it." He beamed and maneouvered Rose onto a park bench, sitting beside her and fixing her with a steady gaze. "Rose. What happened?"

She shook her head. "I-- I shouldn't tell you, should I? I mean, there's the timestream and everyfin'--"

"I know. I just know I wouldn't have been daft enough to leave you in London in 2005, no matter _what_ happened. It's incredibly risky. If you ever caught sight of your mum, for instance, you could damage the timeline beyond repair."

It was so strange and familiar, seeing him again, that she found she couldn't really refuse him anything. "You left Adam back with _his _mum an' a great hole in 'is head..."

"Well, yeah, but that was _Adam_. An' I'm gonna fix that, later. But this is _you_."

Rose wasn't sure his logic was totally sound, but when he talked, the music nearly went away. _Telling me something._ "Yeah, well... it's a long story. But I think-- I think something's wrong. I mean, I keep hearing this _song_ in my head, an'-- I think it's the TARDIS, I think she's tryin' to tell me somefin'."

"Song?" The Doctor blinked. "What song?"

"Molly said it was called 'Hotel California'. I mean, I hear it _all the time_. ALL the time. I can't get rid of it."

"Hotel California?" The Doctor's eyes widened. "What the bloody hell did I _do_?"

Rose blinked. "You ran off with Mickey and Madame du Pompadour," she answered, surprised at the simplicity of it.

"I.. ran off... with WHO?!" He stared at her, and swallowed. "Madame du bloody... He's pretty, isn't he?"

"What?"

"The new regeneration. Whoever I seem to turn into. He's one of the bloody _hyper_ ones, isn't he?"

Rose stared at him. "I- I shouldn't--"

"Right. Stupid question. Isn't the point anyway. The point is, I did _what_?"

"...Reinette," she said. "You-- there was this thing with time windows or something-- a fireplace-- you kept seein' her-- tryin' t'save her life-- an' then you brought 'er back on the TARDIS, an' then you were all-- different. You-- it was like you couldn't see anythin' else..."

The Doctor stared at her, then stared at the building across the street for a moment. "...Right. Clearly I need to have a talk with New Boy."

"But..." Rose fumbled around for words, distracted by the sudden drop of the music in her head to a quiet murmur. "Isn't that... somethin' you're not supposed to do?"

"'Course it is." He beamed at her. "One of the few perks of bein' a Time Lord. Get a little leeway with paradoxes."

"...You're sure?" she said, even though she already knew it was inevitable by the way the TARDIS seemed to so approve.

"Oh, yeah. I've had four or five of me in the same place before; universe didn't end _then_. Might've even had more an' I just can't remember it. Either way, it'll be fine."

"But what about me an' Jack?" she protested. "The me an' Jack who're here?"

"Hopefully I'll only have to make one jump. If I only make one jump, I'll have no problem goin' back to five minutes after I left."

"...It just seems so..." The music increased subtly in volume in her head. "Right. It seems like it should destroy the fabric of time or whatever it is you're always on about, but if it's what your bloody ship wants, it's what she'll get. And I still say she had better have a _damned_ good excuse for this."

"No need to worry about that." He got up, face gone grim. "She will. Let's get going."

(-)


	5. Some Dance to Remember

Summary: Many days, many planets, yet this she will always remember.

Notes: Another short "experimental" chapter. Sorry. Hopefully I've remembered to go on and post the next one.

(-)

_Some dance to remember_

The music was gone, now, or at least muted and wonderfully ignorable. The music was gone, and her hand was in his, and she would remember.

The world had gone clear and slow as they hurried through the London streets. As hazy as she was, her subconscious so close to the surface, the moments seeped deep into her mind, and she would remember.

The exact angle the sun was at in the sky. The exact way it slanted down onto her skin, warm and comforting, and in a real way hers. Earth's sun. Her planet. Home. There were other places, but this was hers, and she would remember.

The slightly muggy air rising from the sidewalks. The smell of car exhaust and fresh-baked bread and garbage and curry, one into the other, all of it _London_ in a way she couldn't define. He probably could, she thought. He saw the universe in a completely different way. He could probably tell her exactly what made this city unique, or what made it exactly like another, but she wasn't going to ask him, because this was hers.

She hadn't realized how much she'd missed that leather jacket of his until she'd seen it again, and it was a heartache. The way he acted, the way he talked, the way he moved-- she felt so stupid, because she knew it was still him, just more hair, less ears, and subtly different levels of neurotransmitters. She knew the only differences were physical-- but-- physical was _important_, there was no way to get around it. Physical was what humans _were_, and as much as they talked about personalities and spirituality and ESP, they were inextricably linked to the physical, and they put stock in it because that was all they had. Humans couldn't see other people's souls. They could only see their faces. Maybe he was different, but physical was all she and her species had, and... she missed it.

But the smile really was the same. The quick grin he flashed her as he stopped her from walking against the lights. The way his whole face lit up and pulled you in, irresistable, fate sealed with his before you even knew it. There _was_ something more than the physical; he proved it. Humans could only hope and suspect, and he was proof...

The light. The way her hand felt in his. The joyous running toward trouble, the feeling she hadn't felt in far too long, had almost forgotten.

Dancing through the streets of London, Thursday morning. She would always remember.

(-)


	6. I Had to Find the Passage Back

Summary: A plan of action is made. 'I'm sure it'll all make complete sense once it's almost too late to be useful...'

Notes: Tried to throw a few references to the earlier canon in this chapter. Given that I've seen, oh, fewer than ten episodes of the original canon, I'm not _entirely_ certain I've got it all right. Sorry. Um, Tom Baker rocks?

(-)

_I had to find the passage back to the place I was before_

"Now. Fact number one. Future me has clearly lost his mind."

"I wouldn't say it's _that_ obvious," Rose protested. "I mean, just 'cos he... well... yeah, he flipped 'is lid."

The Doctor grinned. "Fact number two. Future me has clearly gotten himself in trouble."

"Why d'you say that?"

"Simple. If I hadn't gotten myself into something _seriously_ stupid, the TARDIS wouldn't've put 'Hotel California' on loop in your head." He frowned. "Though, I'm not sure how she's managed to hold on to such a strong telepathic connection with you. After that long, and who even knows how many places he's been since then... Odd." He fiddled with some controls.

"But why _did_ she put that song in my head? Why didn't she just, I dunno, say, 'Rose! The Doctor's gotten 'imself in trouble again! Help!'?"

"First off, the telepathic connection we've all got with the TARDIS isn't strong enough for that. It's harder to create an entirely new message than it is to bring up something from memory. Since you're so far removed from her, I'm amazed she's been managing even _that_." He went to another section of the panel, doing something to a dial. "Also, it's probably a clue of some sort."

"A clue? How?"

"Dunno. Have to find out the hard way. I'm sure it'll all make complete sense once it's almost too late for it to be useful. You read the lyrics to it?"

"Yeah." She fished out a printout. "I still don't understand what it has to do with... well... anything, really."

"Let's see." The Doctor pulled out a pen. "Starts off on the road; there's a clue for you. 'Head grew heavy and my sight grew dim'... something happened to make me detour into idiocy. 'There she stood in the doorway'... you said the trouble started with this Reinette. 'Mission bell'... You've never heard the Cloister Bell, have you?"

Rose shook her head. "There's a _bell_ in here?"

"Long story. Count yourself lucky. 'This could be heaven or this could be hell'. Might be trouble _there_. Et cetera, et cetera... it'd be stupid to overanalyze it, line by line... God, I hope 'In the Master's chamber' isn't a clue... The song's about bein' trapped, isn't it?"

"Seems like a normal ghost story to me," Rose said, looking down at the lyrics. _Wake you up in the middle of the night..._ "I mean, it all _sounds_ right, but it's so hard to _tell_!"

"She did the best she could, I'm sure." There was a beep from the console. "Also, being the incredibly clever timeship she is, she's left a wonderfully clear path and a homing beacon for us to follow! Fantastic!"

"Great," said Rose, with only slightly less feeling. "Where are we going, then?"

"The TARDIS. Control room. Have I changed it any?" He started to pull levers.

"Hang on, you're going to put the TARDIS down... inside the _TARDIS_?"

"Bit tricky, but we should be fine. One of the lovely things about dimensional transendence. I could try to explain it to you."

"No, thanks," Rose said, holding up her hands. "I've had a headache for two weeks now, it's only just now going away."

"Right." He pulled another lever, then looked up at her. "It's been going on that long?"

"Yeah."

"We're in trouble."

For some reason, when he grinned at her like that, she could never bring herself to mind.

(-)


	7. Welcome to the Hotel California

Summary:

Notes: Still pretty short, because like I mentioned, I was a bit affected by Cryptile's vastly superior 'Hey Now Hey Now', and wasn't worrying about chapter length. I'd have just posted it as one fic, but it was pretty dang long and people tend not to bother reading long things, so...

(-)

_Welcome to the Hotel California_

The control room was dark. And cold, and empty.

"Can't say I like what I've done with the place," the Doctor said lightly, looking around before he stepped lightly to the console.

"It's not usually like..."

"Yeah. I know." He pressed a few buttons, stroking the edge of the console reassuringly. "He can't have used this console for... _weeks_."

Rose's eyes widened. "You're _kidding_ me. What could've kept you-- him-- oh, whatever the hell, what could've made you _do_ that?"

"Something really, really bad," said the Doctor, flipping her a lighthearted smile that didn't reach his eyes before ducking underneath the controls. "Now. I should be able to rig this to give us some idea of where he is."

"What, like a tracking device? How come you never used _that_ before?"

"'Cos the thing I'm talking about only works inside the TARDIS."

"Ah." Rose considered this. "Why d'you think he's here? Isn't it more likely that he's outside somewhere?"

"Well, first, we shouldn't go outside before we check in the TARDIS anyway. Also... I've got a feeling. It's about being _trapped_ somewhere, that song is." A wire sparked. "Ow. That should do it."

A beep sounded through the console room, a little too loud and clear for Rose's taste. The sight of this room in shadows-- was that a thin layer of _dust_ on the console?-- was scaring her on a very deep level.

"Yep! He's in here, all right." The Doctor stood up, dusting off his hands proudly.

"Great. Where?"

"...That would be the problem."

"...Oh, god..."

(-)


	8. There Were Voices Down the Corridor

Notes: And Rose finally figures out what everyone else probably knew first chapter. Well, in her defense, she's had a _bad_ few weeks.

(-)

_There were voices down the corridor_

"I can't believe we have to search the _whole ship_," Rose complained. "Can't you come up with _anything_ more specific?"

"'Fraid not. You may want to tie a bell around my neck in the future."

"I bet you think I won't, too." She stood cautiously behind him as he opened a door. "Hang on, we have a _quilting frame_? Why do you have a quilting frame?"

"Someone gave it to me for safekeeping. And how did you know it was a quilting frame, anyway?"

"Seen it in books. Teacher one year. Went to a museum. Giant quilts on the walls. Just a lucky guess, really."

"Thought so."

"Seriously. How big _is_ the TARDIS, anyway?"

"Well, it used to be bigger than it is now. Had to jettison a fair portion of it a while back... long story, really, but I still miss the great ballroom."

"...You are so having me on."

"No, really."

"Seriously. How big _is_ it?"

"...Let's just say this is going to take a while."

"Great." Rose sighed and leaned against the wall. The damn music was back again, and getting louder.

"C'mon. Left-hand corridor, this time."

"Right." Rose straightened up and followed him. Stupid music. She'd never be able to listen to this damn song again. And why was it getting _louder_? What had she done _now_?

"...Hang on a second." Rose turned around. The music immediately quieted, encouragingly.

"What is it?"

"Your bloody ship says we go _this_ way." She started down the right-hand corridor.

"How did you-- _oh_. I see." He hurried to keep up with her. "It's better than wanderin' aimlessly through the whole ship, don't you think?"

"Do you have any _idea_ how many times I have heard this damned song? It's driving me _insane_!" She stopped, doubled back, and headed down a side corridor. "She's been bloody waking me UP at night, just to hear more of this stupid song! Over and over and over and over, every second I'm awake, and if she didn't have a really, REALLY good reason...!"

Rose decided to leave the rest of her thought, which involved reprogramming the TARDIS's computer banks with a hatchet, unvoiced. "Don't get any peace when I'm _asleep_, either," she muttered.

"What, it's in your dreams, too?"

"No. There are nightmares. I don't want to talk about it."

"...You do realize that probably means it's very important, don't you?"

_Black smoke against a blood-red sky. Sapphire skyscrapers turned into rubble. Screaming and Dalek guns and everyone screaming her name like a curse, like a prayer, like an indictment, like an arrow through her ears._

_Not her name. His._

She skidded to a halt. "Oh, _shit_."

"What?"

"Trouble."

"I noticed."

"Big, _big_ trouble. I think I'm starting to get it now. I think I know what she's trying to tell me. I have no idea how the hell it could've happened, but..."

"What?"

"We have to find him." She began to run.

_Screams that vibrated through an atmosphere clogged with smoke. The stab of something-like-light a consciousness made when it died. The not-quite-sound of a heart's electricity frazzling into chaos._

_TARDIS, I'm so sorry I doubted you. I forgive you._

(-)


	9. We Are Programmed to Recieve

Notes: I told you it wasn't a Reinette hate-fic. You're about to find out why. And probably get a good hint as to who's _really_ about to get a little of theirs as well.

(-)

_We are programmed to receive_

The music was gone now, and she managed to rejoice in that even through the panic. She was in the TARDIS, and she understood now; she didn't need it anymore.

_Left_, she thought, and obeyed. _Straight. Far too close. Be careful. She's here--_

Blocking the entrance to the next corridor, still in her ridiculously ornate gown. "Reinette!"

"You shall not pass," she said softly.

"You bitch, what the hell have you--"

"Hang on," said the Doctor, putting an arm out to restrain her from tackling the damn French tart to the TARDIS floor. "I think we've committed a faux pas, as it were. We haven't been properly introduced. I'm the Doctor. Ninth. Pleased to meet you. This is Rose Tyler, but you knew that too. Now. Why don't you tell us your _real_ name?"

Rose's head snapped around to gape at Reinette, who smiled that slow, wicked smile she'd grown to loathe so dearly. "Hmm. I see youth has its advantages, even for a Time Lord."

"Yes, well, I have no idea what's wrong with the sap you've got in _there_. From what little I've heard, he seems bound and determined to throw every single lesson I've ever learned straight out the window. Not that I mind a little housekeeping, of course. Not that I'm stupid enough to believe I don't _need_ to unlearn some of the things I know. But not this many."

"Well, as you've no doubt surmised, that isn't _entirely_ his fault. Though I'm afraid I can't take credit for _all_ of it. Otherwise, I never would've managed it, would I?"

"So. Was there ever a real Reinette? Or did you just make her up for your own purposes?"

"No, there was a real Reinette," said... the French tart. "I believe she's known in history; Madame de Pompadour, if the blonde tart hasn't told you. He even met her. Not half as many times as he thought he did, though. And he never saved her. All he did was take me exactly where I needed to be."

"What the hell are you?" Rose spat. "Why are you doing this?"

"I am the Fury. The only one left. And I am here to pass down judgment."

"Judgment?" said the Doctor, as a chill ran down Rose's spine. "From whom?"

"My people. The Ynn'ai. Whose planet was destroyed in the Great War Across Time."

The Doctor paled visibly, and Rose began contemplating a rugby tackle in earnest.

"I am the Princess. I am the Last, and must be the Avenging Fury on behalf of my race. The Time Lords were judged and found guilty. And that sentence shall be carried out-- _now_."

The Fury snapped her fingers, and the Doctor fell, without a word, without a cry, like his hearts had just stopped in an instant.

"Doctor!" Rose couldn't help crying, falling down beside him, trying to cushion his descent.

"The sentence is passed," said the Fury, devastatingly calm. "All remaining Time Lords are punished. And I... am free."

She smiled, a smug, delighted smile that made Rose's fists curl up reflexively. "A ship that can go anywhere in the universe. The knowledge to pilot it. For the first time in my life... I am _free_."

"Oh, that's just _wonderful_!" Rose screamed. "I'm so bloody _happy_ for you, you can go about anywhere you like now!"

"I was trapped," said the Fury, blinking at her like she expected her to understand. "I could not do anything but complete my mission. And now I am free."

"Great. That means you're free to _let him go_."

She shook her head. "Even if I were, I would not-- and I could not."

"What the _hell_ are you on about?" Rose said, though she thought she probably knew. A faint brush of the song in her mind...

"The sentence cannot be passed onto an innocent party. It is fueled by the guilt of the condemned. I may initate the punishment, but I am not the jailer."

"...Prisoners," Rose said, a shiver running down her spine, "of their own device."

"Yes. He is guilty. But you are not. I will take you home, if you wish it."

"Go to hell," Rose spat.

The Fury shrugged. "If you wish. I hear it does have an excellent selection of restaraunts." She turned and walked away.

Rose looked up at the ceiling, easing the Doctor's head from her lap. "A little help, please?"

A light flickered across a cricket bat in the corner.

"Thank you," she said, and went to pick it up.

She didn't know how to fix this, but there was _one_ thing she knew how to fix...

"Reinette?" she called, walking into the corrdor. "Reinette, I changed my mind about where I want to go..."

(-)


	10. Of Our Own Device

Notes: While moral relativism has its place, I am of the opinion that some things are simply absolute. Not as many things as some might think, but there _are_ fundamental truths in the universe, and if we did not behave as if we believed that, the world would be a much messier place. I don't know if said universal laws go much further than 'Do no harm', but they exist. What does this have to do with anything? Probably nothing. But if I have to suffer through a philosophy class, why shouldn't you reap some of the benefits?

(-)

_Of our own device_

So. Assets.

One cricket bat. One telepathic link with the TARDIS.

Problems. One unconsious French slut tied up in the corner, face gone strangely featureless. Two unconscious Doctors on the floor in front of her, looking terrifyingly dead.

Ideas.

She was running slightly low on ideas at the moment.

The Fury stirred slightly; Rose glanced over at her, hand going to her cricket bat. Well, she hadn't killed her, obviously. Damn.

"...That was _rude_," said the Fury, wincing as she opened her eyes. Rose was taken back for a moment by the girl's features returning to their original shape. _Well, she had to imitate Reinette somehow. Guess she's like a shapeshifter or something..._

"So was getting the Doctor to kick me off the TARDIS. How _did_ you manage that, anyway?"

"The guilt of the damned," she said simply. "We use it to lure them in. He was blinded by it; I used the opening to blind him in other ways. Then, when the time was right, I passed down the judgment."

Wonderful. "So you're sayin' you only punish people who already feel so guilty they're willin' to lock themselves in hell for the rest of their lives? What the _hell_ is the point of _that_?"

"If you knew what he'd done," she said, "you'd understand."

"If you knew who he _was_," Rose said, "_you'd_ understand."

"My planet is dead."

"So is his."

"His people started the war."

"Not the Daleks?"

"It was between his people and the Daleks. They are responsible."

"See, I met a Dalek," Rose said. "I got a pretty good idea who started it."

"And the Time Lords responded, and wreaked havoc on the universe."

"Ah, but you see, I _met_ a Dalek," Rose said, surprising herself with her patience. _He must be rubbing off on me._ "It was pretty single-minded. It wanted to kill every single other living thing in the universe."

"You can't possibly believe that." She shook her head. "That is what he told _us_. Are you saying you actually believe any sane race could be so paranoid, so xenophobic, so ultimately self-destructive? No sane race could be so warlike. The Time Lords lie. Every war has two stories, and which did the Daleks tell?"

"'No sane race', you keep saying," Rose said. "You ever hear of a thing called 'insanity'?"

"An entire race cannot possibly be insane."

"I saw one of those things destroy an entire squadron. At least thirty people, an' it only stopped because it was changing into something else. It would've destroyed my whole planet, then gone out lookin' for more."

"You cannot know that."

"Gah." She shook her head, disgusted. "Hopeless. Totally hopeless."

"What do you hope to gain by keeping me here?" the Fury asked.

Rose was hoping she'd let something slip, but she wasn't about to tell _her_ that. "You're the one who's all about punishments. I say you deserve one for everything you've done to me."

"You'll have to let me go eventually."

"True. But that's not gonna be my problem. It's gonna be his."

The Fury laughed. "Have you not been _listening_ to me, peasant? It is a door, locked from the inside. There is no way to get inside. It is forever."

Two things suddenly occured to Rose. "Oh, yeah?" she said, going with the less important. "Why'd you go to so much trouble to kick me off the TARDIS, then?"

"You might have interfered with the sentencing," the Fury said, looking uncomfortable.

"Oh, _really_. Where's Mickey, then? I haven't seen him, either. Where'd you two dump _him_, huh? And why were you so keen to keep us all apart?"

"You cannot break the sentence," the Fury said. "It is self-imposed."

"Does that mean you can't hand it down again? I mean, if I did break it, you wouldn't have any choice but to shut up and let us go?"

"It cannot be broken," the Fury repeated, patiently.

"That's French-bitch for 'yes', inn'it?"

"You do realize I'm not actually French, right?"

"That's French-bitch for 'yes,'" Rose confirmed, nodding.

"You cannot break the sentence," said the Fury, seeming almost desperate. "I tell you this for your own good. If you try, you will only succeed in locking yourself in the punishment with him."

"Yeah," said Rose. "I kind of thought so. You know what? That's what I'm countin' on."

"You are insane," said the Fury, shaking her head. "You could leave this place and go anywhere you want. Yet you insist on damning yourself with him?"

"Yeah," said Rose, reaching into the back of her mind. _Are you there? Will you help me?_

_Dangerous, dangerous. Only choice. Yes. All of us, together._

"I guess it's just the stupid peasant girl in me," said Rose, and made the connection.

(-)


	11. Last Thing I Remember

Notes: For those who know some Latin: I made 'Dalek, dalekis' a third conjugation neuter i-stem noun. Why i-stem? 'Dalekia' sounded better than 'daleka' to me. No real reason. And totally arbitrary.

For those who do not: There was a Roman senator named Cato who was known (among other things) for his rather paranoid mistrust of Carthage. He eventually stirred the Romans into a third war with Carthage, which destroyed the city entirely. Why he hated them so much, no one knows, and they probably weren't a threat by then. He is well-known for his habit of ending every speech he made in the senate with some form of 'Carthago delenda est': 'Carthage must be destroyed'. (If you're really curious, that phrase is often cited as an example of the 'passive periphrastic' construction, which takes a 'dative of agent'. I watch as you all flock to sign up for Latin classes. Heh.)

(-)

_Last thing I remember_

The world, through a haze of golden light. Light like a halo, all around her. Some faint protection; a little touch of heaven in hell.

The sky was orange, this time. The smoke was just as black.

"Doctor!"

The screaming just as loud. Worse, this time, her own people, easier to hear, impossible not to feel in a thousand different ways.

"It's over."

Over, everything and everyone, unless.

"Unless you have another stupid plan."

"Actually," he said, softly, "I do."

Another voice, another accent, but she would've recognised it anywhere by now. Explosions outside. Screams. How the Council had screamed, saying he hadn't warned them, saying they were all dead, he had to have a plan to save them, he had to-- and how many times had it been? How many times repeating his 'Dalekia delenda sunt' at the end of every speech, every _sentence_? How many times had he tried to _warn_ them? But not enough, never enough--

"Do it," she said.

"You don't know how stupid this plan is."

"Will it save us?"

"No."

"Will it save _anything_?"

"If we're incredibly lucky."

"Easiest decision in the history of the known universe. Something versus nothing. Consider this an order. _Do it._"

To the central building, in the smoke. Guards screaming as they died outside, two thousand years before their time. Council members in the corridors, following him like abandoned dogs. Until he got to the center, and they realized what he was going to do.

Then they screamed, and protested, and one got between the others and him, as the other three tried to beat him and drag him away.

"What _right_ do you have?!"

Wires and wires, his whole life had been wires, his whole life had been in service of Death. Well, one final delivery to his master; one grand finale to his career. Then he was out of his contract. Then he could die, like everything else.

One was trying to strangle him, but the wires connected. One grabbed onto his arm, but the circuit was done.

One stabbed him through the heart, but it was already too late. A waste of effort, when Death was coming for them all.

And the fire came, and the Daleks screamed, and his people screamed, in confusion, in terror, in anger, in hatred, in fury, in betrayal. Because he had betrayed them; he'd sold them as ransom for the safety of the universe. He hoped it would be some small consolation to them that the fire would take him too.

And the fire came, drowning out all the other cries in his own, and--

_"Doctor."_

At the edge of his vision, golden light.

(-)


	12. Then She Lit Up a Candle

Notes: My Ten-voice is probably shaky. I'd list the qualities I think it lacks, but it would come dangerously close to sounding like "I don't think I made him enough of a jerk," so I'll refrain. Not that I think Ten is a jerk. I'm giving him more time. But let's just say he's got a little bit of ground to make up with me...

(-)

_Then she lit up a candle_

"Rose?"

The Doctor blinked, and it was _him _again, staring at her through the smoke-- her second him, looking lost. It was a very strange look on him.

"Doctor," she said.

"What are you doing here? This is..."

"All in your head, yeah," said Rose, nodding.

"Oh, is it?" He looked around, blinking. "I suppose it'd have to be, wouldn't it? Given that it's already happened. Or-- well, technically that's not true, but I know you don't want to hear about nonlinear time."

That stung, at this point, after all the 'stupid peasant' comments and all the conversations she'd been carefully left out of. "Why d'you think _that_?"

"'Cos you can't _really_ understand it. It's like how your mathematicians can _understand_ that there are more than four dimensions, but they can't really comprehend what it's actually like. It's not your fault. You're four-dimensional creatures; you've had to be, just to survive. D'you know, most of the work your brains do is just editing stuff out? It just _has_ to be. You can't focus on so many things at once."

"An' you can, I bet," Rose said, still faintly sour about it.

"I can do a lot of things. But no, not that. Even with a time machine, experience goes in a straight line. I can understand the _theory_, of course, but I can't experience the nonlinear any more than you could. Is _that_ what you're here to remind me?"

"I'm _here_ to get your sorry arse _out_ of this place," Rose snapped. "Do me a favor and remind me of _why_."

He laughed. "Would I know?"

Rose cursed at herself; the last thing she needed to do was be angry at him. There was more than enough blame in this place already; that was the whole problem. "Look, I'm sorry. I shouldn't've snapped at you. I just need you to start _thinking_ and get us out of here."

He blinked. "Look, it isn't going to work, you know."

She restrained the urge to do something foolish. "Yeah. Keep hearin' that. Not usually from you, though. Guess you _have_ changed."

"I'm just saying, I know how this game is played. The calm before the storm. The reprieve before another..."

"What the _hell_ are you on about?" She shook her head, wondering if maybe she should've brought her cricket bat. "I'm trying to tell you we've got to get out of here. This is a prison, like. In your head. An' it's been showin' you all the terrible things that've happened in your past, right? An' that-- hasn't been fun. But we can get out of here, if you just..."

_"Pull your head out of whatever crevice you've stuck it in and start thinking?"_

Rose started, staring at the flickering figure of her first Doctor standing behind her second. "What-- you're here too?"

_"Yeah. He supercedes me." _He grimaced, glowering at his future self. _"I **knew**__you'd be pretty."_

"Oh, _wonderful_," the Doctor said, putting his head in his hands. "_Just_ what I needed. Are you bringing the rest along, too? Show them _all_ the mess we made?"

_"Oi. Listen to me. I know something you haven't figured out yet, 'cos you won't let it get into your head. She's not an illusion, Boy Wonder. She's here, and so am I, and if you don't take her advice and start thinking, we're **all** doomed. Literally, really. Don't we want **this**__temporal paradox on our head?"_

Rose was thinking, furiously, because she couldn't afford to mess this up-- for all their sakes. "Hang on, you thought I wasn't _real_? You thought I was all in your head, didn't you? You thought I was just somethin' else that was gonna start torturin' you."

Her first Doctor smiled at her before he flickered away.

"...I think I can be forgiven for being cautious," the Doctor said, staring warily at the place his past self had been.

"Yeah. This is a bad place. But I need you to break out of it, Doctor. I need you to come home."

"You don't understand," he said. "This isn't the sort of thing you can escape."

--_the place where they were held, because Daleks, unlike Time Lords, understood the necessity of good intel. Had perhaps even learned the lesson from that fiasco at the beginning of their history. Ah, the legendary stupidity of it. "Doctor," they'd told him, "this is where the Daleks came from. Go fix that." No details on how it had happened, no details on the current state of affairs, not even a "Oh, yes, the city ought to be that way, across the minefield". Six hours before the first Dalek became autonomous, a mile and a minefield away from where it would happen. Doomed from the beginning, and now he could never go back._

_Would he, if he could?_

_Screaming from the next room, a bag around his head, walls lined with broken glass. The way Amanda had looked when they'd misjudged it, pale and bloated and blood coming from everywhere it could and a few places he'd thought it couldn't-- in a _heartbeat_ he would do it-- if only he'd ever truly had the chance--_

_--hauled up and out and toward the room where--_

_"WAKE UP, YOU FOOL! SHE'S **HERE**!!"_

The dream broke and she tumbled and which was she and where and--

Gold light, catching her.

"ROSE! My god, she's _here_, she's-- ROSE!"

One hurdle gone, at least, she thought, trying to clear her vision. He'd figured out she was real.

One hurdle, but god, the marathon ahead of her...

(-)


	13. And She Showed Me the Way

Notes: Like I said before, I'm still worried about my Ten voice. I think it's just 'cos after seeing the first couple of episodes, I can't possibly imagine him ever being guilty about anything. But I'm sure it is possible, and it's necessary to the plot anyway, so I hope you'll indulge me.

Not that I think Ten is superficial or denial-ridden or anything. Like I said, I really am giving him a chance. Not that he needs one, I'm just... Let's stop here before I dig myself too deep a hole. Ah, well. I keep pretending not to care about reviews; let's put the proverbial money where my mouth is...

(-)

_And she showed me the way_

"Rose! I'm so sorry. I didn't mean-- are you all right?"

Rose passed a hand in front of her eyes, feeling more dizzy than anything else, because she'd seen all this before. Not that she had any intention of telling him that. As soon as she was reasonably sure she could do it without losing her sense of balance, she nodded.

He was still standing where she'd left him, looking stricken. "My god. Rose, _you can't be here_. This isn't a place for you."

"Isn't a place for you, either," she pointed out, feeling particularly stubborn. After all, she had an ace up her sleeve, one she did _not_ want to use: she _couldn't_ leave without him. One thing she never wanted him to know, but she would tell him if it got them out of here. Even if nothing was ever the same again.

It _already _wasn't ever going to be the same again.

"Yes, but it's my mind. Hard for me to escape it. But you-- you can, and you have to get out of here, before I-- before it happens again."

"Not without you." _C'mon, what else can I try_-- she thought desperately, knowing he'd never forgive her if she blackmailed him out of here-- not to mention it probably wouldn't work anyway.

"But I--"

"Why the hell are you insisting on staying here?!" she cried. "Why d'you think this is where you belong?! 'Cos you _do_, don't you?! That's the _real_ reason you won't try an' get out, because you--"

"It isn't that I won't try, it's that--"

"Your'e dumb enough to think it's what was comin' to ya! That's it, isn't it? You think it's just justice and everyone's better off! Well, you're WRONG!"

"Rose--"

"Stop being a selfish little git and WAKE UP already!"

He stared at her, openmouthed. "..._Selfish_?!"

"Yeah! Selfish!" She wasn't entirely sure how she was going to _defend_ this position, but at least he was angry at something else now. "First you leave me an' Mickey off in the middle of an alien spaceship so you can go an' be with your chippy in France."

"_She is not a chippy_!"

"Okay, sorry, reflex. Forgot I only met her once."

"What are you _talking_ about?"

"I'm sayin' it wasn't _noble_ to leave us an' go an' trap yourself in France to be miserable with your girlfriend! I'm sayin' it isn't _noble_ to lock yourself up an' feel sorry for yourself an' leave everyone else high an' dry!"

"I did _not_ lock myself up!"

"Yeah, but you're the one who's got the key. An' you don't seem like you're tryin' very hard to escape!"

"I was _distracted_!"

"Yeah? Well, you aren't anymore. An' I don't see you lookin' for the exits! I see you standin' here an tryin' to tell me why I should just bugger off an' leave you alone!"

"I did _not_ say that!"

"Yeah, well, it's what you _meant_. An' you know what? I'm not havin' it any more! I've put up with you tryin' to drive me off for god only _knows_ how long, an' you know what? You're stuck with me now! I'm not leavin' till you suck it up and _deal_ and come back home!"

She'd struck him speechless. Maybe out of anger, yeah, but that had to be a good sign, right?

"What's so _just_ about you bein' stuck here for the rest of your life?" she continued, more reasonably. "What good does it do anybody? Doesn't help you. Sure as hell doesn't help _me_. Doesn't fix anything. Doesn't undo anything. Doesn't make anybody feel better. 'Cept maybe it feels better to _you_. So tell me. What about this isn't selfish?"

"...You don't understand."

"Oh yeah? Explain it to me."

"I can't. You've seen..." He gestured at the broken landscape, helplessly.

"Yeah. I have. An' no, I don't know what it was like. An' I _can't_. 'Cos I'm not gonna be you. I'm not gonna live a kajillion years an' fight Daleks and whatever else it is you've done. But that doesn't mean I'm wrong. Maybe it's hard, but it's still what you have to do. It's the only thing you _can_ do. You get up, an' you keep movin'. You're not the only one in the universe who's been through hell. An' it's terrible-- I _know_ it is, don't you see? But you can't keep punishin' yourself for it. Doesn't fix _anything_. Only thing it does is hurt everyone you know."

"...That's not a new thing, for me."

"Yeah. Noticed that too. So pay a little more attention next time. An' stop-- stop bein' so _angry_ at yourself. You did the best you could, I _know_ it. Stop beatin' yourself up about things that you can't change."

"...Rose--"

"You did the best you could," she repeated. "I _know_ you. Even if you were wrong sometimes, what _else_ could you have done with what you knew? An' you've just gotta-- you've just gotta deal with it, an' try to do better next time, an' move on. 'Cos we need you, Doctor. Everyone. We need you."

"...I don't think this is a place I can get out of, Rose."

"I think it is. I think you're the only person who _can_ get out of here. That's what _she_ told me. Try."

He looked at her for a moment. "The Ynn'ai, she said?"

_A green park, emerald-green of a purity Earth's plants rarely achieved. But that was because this was the Royal Park, and had to be immaculate-- especially because you never knew when an unexpected ambassador might show up._

_And a lovely pink sky, that eased his heart to look at. Almost as soothing as Earth's blue might be-- but he didn't dare visit Earth. He might draw the nightmare in after him. A miracle the Daleks hadn't remembered Earth yet in the first place; he didn't dare do _anything_ that might jeopardize that._

_But this planet was in the line of fire, and the Daleks would have no mercy._

_"We are neutral," said their King, with the solemn bone structure he seemed to prefer today. "You must respect that."_

_"Ah, you see, we _will_ respect that. It's just that the Daleks won't. The Daleks don't respect anything. They kill anything that isn't a Dalek, and that includes you."_

_The little girl beside him laughed; her mother shushed her with a murmured scolding about "serious meeting" and "protocol" and "learn how it's done". Shame she'd never have time to._

_"Excuse my daughter's poor manners," said the King, "but it really is ridiculous. An entire race so devoted to destruction... it's impossible. You truly believe your own warlike propaganda, don't you?"_

_"It isn't propaganda," he said. "I've seen it with my own times, dozens of times over. It is what the Daleks are. It is what the Daleks do. Please--"_

_"Enough," said the King, rising. "We shall not become embroiled in your war."_

_"The Daleks aren't going to give you a choice!"_

_"We mean no harm to them. We are not hostile. They shall respect that. I suggest that you do the same."_

_"You have to understand, I _mean_ this, you're the next in line--"_

_"We are not hostile to them. It would be a waste of their resources to attack us. Do not insult my intelligence, Doctor. We will not be cowed by your fearmongering to engage in warfare. We are above that. Come, Ri'anna, S'minia. I suggest you leave this place, Doctor. If not, we shall have to escort you to your vehicle."_

_"You're making a mistake!" he yelled, hearts racing, because it was happening again, again, and he couldn't stop it, could never stop it, there had to be a _way_--_

_--but-- there hadn't been, had there? Not even for him. And it was over, and unfixable, and all he really felt was sad._

_All that death. No reason for it. Maybe it was just fatigue, but all he felt was sad._

_This planet had burned, like so many others had... and like so many others would, if they were ignorant like this one. So many disasters, unavertable, except for knowledge-- the knowledge and expertise he made a life of providing._

_To avert a few disasters. Or ameliorate them._

_And it hurt like hell, but-- it was still worth it. It would hurt him so badly, but-- it was worth it._

_And he was being kept from it._

_But he really did have the key, didn't he? Always had, and always would._

_And he wasn't going to stay here anymore._

(-)


	14. We Are All Just Prisoners Here

Notes: This chapter, and the next ones, are why I wrote this. Thinking about it, with the pachinko bit and the angsty bit, this is probably my favorite chapter of the fic. Hope people have stuck around long enough to see it. (Despite my minority opinion on Ten's behavior...)

(-)

_We are all just prisoners here_

Rose opened her eyes to find the Fury leaning over her in astonishment. "Oh, hello," she said, with a wicked grin. "Are _you_ still here?"

"It's a trick," said the Fury. "You're tricking me."

"Ah, that would be your mistake," said her first Doctor, wincing as he sat up. "You never bothered to understand Rose Tyler, did you?"

The Fury sat down, rather suddenly, a stunned look on her face. "You... You couldn't have... it's..."

"What, did you honestly believe I chose my companions for their _looks_?" He rolled his eyes, and poked his future in the shoulder. "C'mon, pretty-boy, time to wake up now..."

Her second Doctor moaned a little before laboriously hauling himself to a sitting position. "_God_, do I have a headache..."

"I should imagine, what with your tiny brain rattlin' around in there like a marble in a pachinko machine. I mean, seriously, the ears are an improvement, but it's what's _between_ 'em that _really_ makes a difference."

Her second Doctor glared at him sourly. "You do realize you're only insulting yourself, right?"

"Never stopped me before, has it?"

"Besides, you know damn well you would've fallen for it too. _Worse_."

"Well, maybe-- hook, line an' sinker-- but at least I wouldn't have abandoned Rose so many times."

"Look, I already feel like an idiot. You really don't have to try and help."

"I got the right to snipe at you the second I got dragged into the bloody mess. Speaking of which, you owe Rose an apology. Or five."

"Rose?" The Doctor turned and blinked at her. "How did you find me?"

The other Doctor raised his hand. "Wonderfully quick on the uptake this go-round, aren't we?"

"Do shut up for a minute and let me think."

"'Course. Give it a shot. See how well it works for you."

"Doctor..." Rose warned, and let her hand stray toward her cricket bat.

"I'll shut up." He folded his legs and stared at the wall, eyes wide and innocent, the very definition of docile. No one in the room was fooled for a second.

After a moment, her second Doctor shook his head. "What happened?" he asked, the picture of confusion. "I remember Reinette..."

"Little Miss Princess over here was impersonatin' her," said Rose, restraining herself admirably. "You brought her back with you, an' you were all... obsessed, like, you weren't payin' attention to anyfin' else. Then the French tart decided to drive me out."

"I am neither a tart nor French and this cannot be happening."

"Believe it, lady," Rose snapped. "Bitch finally drove me out of the TARDIS, she did. You didn't even blink, just dropped me off in London. 2005, might I add. When I was supposed to be missing. So _that_ was fun."

"...I am never going to live this down, am I?" her second Doctor realized.

"Nope," said her first, inordinately cheerful.

"Anyway, apparently Madame du Punishment here drove Mickey off too before handin' down her sentence. Looks of the control room, that was weeks ago."

"Weeks?"

"Surprised Rickey lasted as long as he did, actually," her first Doctor commented, shaking his head. "Though I guess once he latches onto somethin', it's hard to shake 'im off. When'd he change his mind about comin' along, anyway?"

"_Weeks_?" said her second Doctor, rounding on the Fury.

"I... I merely passed down the lawful sentence of my people, you cannot blame me for..."

"...Point," the Doctor sighed, and turned back to Rose. "But how did you figure it out?"

"Mostly, the TARDIS drove me out of my mind. You ever hear the song 'Hotel California'?"

The Doctor blinked. "Yeah. Great song."

"Not for seven weeks straight, it isn't!" Rose groused. "Wouldn't bloody leave me alone! And what the hell could _I_ do, stuck in the middle of London?! --But," she sighed, "it worked. Can't argue with that, I suppose."

"Seven _weeks_?"

"Yep, you're in trouble," said her first Doctor cheerfully.

"Secen _weeks_..." The Doctor shook his head. "All right, I _may_ see the point of the pachinko analogy."

"I thought you would."

The Doctor shot his past a mild glare as he struggled to his feet. "So. First, we bid _you_ a fond farewell and get you back to torment the people in your _own_ timeline. Second, we drop this person off at the destination of her choice."

"What?!" Rose cried.

"She won't do us any further harm. I'm certainly not going to let her stay on the TARDIS after what she's done--" he shot her a wounded, betrayed look that would've broken Rose's heart-- "but I'm not going to punish her, either. I know you've had a miserable few months-- and I'll try to make that up to you, I really will-- but think about it. Give it time. You'll understand."

"You arrogant son of a bitch," the Fury hissed. "That peasant can't understand. No one can understand."

"What's so difficult about it?" Her first Doctor turned toward the Fury, arms casually looped around his knees. Rose couldn't see his expression, but she thought she knew it very well. Those eyes of his trapped you, like judgment, like truth. And god, if the truth wasn't pretty...

Could be painful, but it'd still set you free.

"What, you think you're the only last of your race? You think you're the only refugee? No. It's happened a billion times. Did they warn you they were sending you away, Princess? Did they warn you you might live? No. They didn't, did they? You just woke up to see your planet burning behind you."

The Fury was shocked, speechless, and how long had Rose wanted to see that expression on her face? Whatever had happened to the girl, Rose couldn't help revelling in it.

"Alive, the last, and you never asked for it. You didn't know how, and you didn't know why. Tradition was all you had left, and you were bound to fufill it. It was what you owed: it was your penance: it was your duty and your privilege and your revenge. D'you really think for a _second_ I don't understand that?"

Hearing that voice haunted by the deaths of a thousand worlds, only an utter fool could answer no.

"No. You don't have a corner on it. You never have. I know why you blame me. I'm the only one left. And I'm an excellent distraction from yourself."

Tears in the girl's eyes, now, but there was no avoiding it. It was just the truth.

"But it wasn't your fault. And if my taking the blame could help anything-- could save _anything_-- could make something just a _little_ bit right..." His voice was faltering.

"That's why it worked," said her second Doctor, gripping Rose's hand tightly. "I thought it was justice. I thought it might help _you_."

"But it didn't, did it? It just took away your distraction. It just cut you loose from your tradition. And tradition's been slowly strangling you all your life, but you don't know what else you have. And if taking the blame would help you, I'd do it in a heartbeat. But it wasn't... and it won't. I can promise you that."

"I'll take you anywhere you want," said her second Doctor. "But what you'll do with your life after that... that's left to you."

"Choose carefully," said her first Doctor, and stood up, just like that. "So! Let's dust off the TARDIS and hope she forgives you."

"Hang on. What d'you _mean_, 'dust'?"

Rose glanced down at the Fury. She refused to look back, head turned toward the wall, fighting the tears in her eyes.

Rose untied her knots and walked away.

(-)


	15. We Haven't Had That Spirit Here

Notes: This is probably my second-favorite chapter. (grins) So by now you've probably figured out how I twisted the challenge, or how it presented itself to me (depends on how charitable you're feeling): it didn't make me wonder how the Doctor could realize what he was doing, dump the French tart, and win Rose back; it made me wonder what the hell would be wrong with the Doctor to make him do that. (Of course, after having seen a few episodes with him, I realize to my dismay that this is not exactly out of character. But I digress.) In short, I didn't blame the other woman, I blamed him for totally losing his mind. I'm not going to make a point of it-- after all, this was all finished before I saw any Ten episodes at all -- but I still think if Nine met Ten, there's a very good chance Nine would (to put it in local parlance) whup his ass into next week. Or next millenium. He is a Time Lord after all. (grins)

And yes, by now GitF has been shown on American TV. I couldn't really bring myself to watch, though I know I should've. Did read a summary, though, which lessened my resentment of Reinette even more, and did nothing to correct my impression that Ten had lost his mind. Ship full of evil clockwork robots who like to cannibalize humans for their repair work in the fifty-first century. And Sarah Jane thinks _she_ got dumped in the wrong place. Ay. (For further thoughts, see 'Moon Revenge'. And my profile.)

(-)

_We haven't had that spirit here since 1969_

"...can't _believe_ this..."

"Excuse me! I've been a little bit _distracted_, okay?"

"I hope she forgives you someday. Sweet Rassilon on a bungee cord, _look_ at this--"

"_All I've got to do is dust it off!_"

"Shameful. Simply shameful."

"Don't you have somewhere to be?"

"Yeah, actually. I do."

"Right," said Rose, trying not to feel so disappointed. "You still sure you can actually hit the right decade?"

"Oi! Ye of little faith. I told you. It's simple. Be back five minutes after I left."

"And then what?" Rose asked. "You just-- go back? Pretend none of this ever happened?"

"...Pretty much, yeah. Don't worry. I'm good at that." He smiled at her. This time, it wasn't reassuring.

"So you-- what? You can just forget about all this?"

"Well... yeah."

"Wow." Rose looked down, fiddled with a pencil. "Must be..."

"Incredibly awkward," said her second Doctor, poking his head up.

"...Yeah." Rose fiddled with her pencil. "It just doesn't seem _fair_."

"That's 'cos it isn't." Her first Doctor stepped closer to her. "It's _not_ fair. Never has been. But it's how it's got to be. Gotta let the Pretty Bungler over here destroy the universe for himself."

"_Oi_!" her second protested.

"Sorry. He's not actually that pretty."

"_I swear, if it wouldn't cause a temporal paradox that would destroy all of existence..._"

"Fine, fine, you're pretty, all right? Don't be so _vain_ about it." He waved him away. "Seriously," he whispered, leaning closer to Rose, "did I hit my head or somethin'? And by 'hit my head', I mean 'so hard gray matter flew all over town'?"

"I can _hear_ you."

"Oh, good, I was worried _that'd_ gone off, too."

"Clown."

"Dandy." He grinned.

"...Actually, you're _both_ insane."

"I know." He smiled at her sadly. "But I really do have to get going. For one thing, if I stuck around much longer we'd kill each other."

"I could take him," her second Doctor muttered to himself. Frankly, Rose kind of doubted that.

"Yeah," she said, and tried her best not to cry. "You gotta go back to me an' Jack. He's a good person, you know. He's... he's a lot bigger on the inside. You gotta learn to trust him."

"Yeah. I will. Right!" He straightened up. "Hate long goodbyes. Goodbye, Rose. Goodbye, French tart. And as for _you_, Wonder Boy..."

He glared at his future, eyes flashing, words slow and deadly serious like his teasing hadn't been before. "Don't you _ever_ make me come back here again."

He flushed and looked down instantly. "Yes, sir."

"Right! I'll be off then. See you soon."

_Very _soon, and he must know it, Rose realized, stifling the heartache as he closed his TARDIS door. What that could be like, she still couldn't imagine.

But maybe she was closer than before.

"...I can't believe I just let him scold me like a schoolboy," the Doctor said, sounding stunned. "I have seniority! I shouldn't let him push me around!"

"What, you're _still_ not going to shut up?" the Fury complained, from her sulking spot in the doorway. "You really _aren't_ ever quiet, are you?"

"Do you _really_ want to test my patience today?" the Doctor inquired. "Sure, Mr. Broody felt free, but you've got to remember _he_ was protected by a time paradox. Are you absolutely _sure_ you want to risk it? Today would be a glorious day to-- hang on, that's Star Trek. At least I didn't do _that_ in front of Mr. Broody. I'd never have heard the end of it."

"Never hear the end of bloody _anything_ around _here_," the Fury muttered.

"Do you have a place you want to go or not?"

"Yes. Carpathia VII."

"Excellent choice. Now, about the time."

"...How should I know?"

"D'you have any _idea_ how easy it would be for me to dump you on there during their prehistory?" the Doctor said, starting up the engines. "You are _so_ lucky I'm a great person."

"I see you got over hell fast," the Fury muttered. "May you find yourself returned there soon."

"See, he may be a great person," Rose said, "but I'm just a London shopgirl. I've had a _bad_ couple of months and I've still got that cricket bat."

"...I'll go quietly."

"Thank you." Rose smiled at her sweetly.

The TARDIS landed, and the Fury hurried toward the door.

"I could give you some money--" the Doctor began.

The Fury hurried out the door and slammed it behind her.

"...All right, then," the Doctor said, and readjusted the controls. "Let's see if I can remember where I left Mickey."

"You don't remember where you left Mickey?"

"Yeah I do! Mostly. I have a pretty good idea!"

"Dandy," Rose said, very, very quietly.

"What?"

"I said, let's go!"

She grinned at him, and he grinned back.

She wasn't totally sure she'd ever trust him the same way again... but she was pretty sure she could trust him enough.

And anyway, there was only one way to find out.

(-)


	16. Epilogue: Her Mind is Tiffany Twisted

Notes: I like this bit. Trifle experimental, like the fic at large, but I think it works very well (better than the fic as a whole). Clearly I could be wrong. But even if I am, I think I'll still like it.

Also, I apologize for the fact that there are four epilogues. It is probably excessive. You can skip the second one if you like.

-

_Her mind is Tiffany-twisted_

The most hideous aspect of the Time War, she thought, was its uneven devastation. Some planets had been burned. Some wiped from history. Some blown up, some left entirely alone.

Hers was one of the ones that had been burned manually. Which was how she was able to find one of her family's accountants on Carpathia VII and use a portion of the meagre funds left to the Ynn'ai royal house to buy herself a timeship, black and sleek.

It didn't have the space of the TARDIS, she had to admit, but it was understandable, _far_ less tempernmental, and, most pivotal of all, didn't come with its occupants. And it could take her anywhere she could ever want to go.

Even her planet's past-- but she couldn't think about that yet.

The Time War had decreased her family's financial reserve dramatically, but she still had enough to make a few wise and temporally illegal investments, and enough soon after that to buy all the trappings of nobility. The newsfeeds snapped up her story the second she covertly leaked it, and it was as easy as that-- lost princess of the mysteriously-vanished Ynn'ai empire, launched into the social circles of the entire galaxy.

In an "exclusive" interview, she explained that she didn't know what had happened to her planet-- just knew that she'd woken up in a small capsule, flying away from all she'd ever known. She'd been picked up by strangers, and had finally been able to get back on her feet, just wanting to live her life as normally as she could.

Oh, how the media loved it. She'd become their darling in an instant, the tragic poor-little-rich-girl story that everyone so loved to hear.

She reminded herself that this was what she had wanted. Some mornings, she couldn't quite remember why.

Everywhere she went, she asked about the Doctor. Oh, not at first-- sometimes it would be on the second or fifth visit, always slipped casually into a long list of polite topics so that most people didn't even remember she'd asked.

And oh, did she hear stories. Meddler, saviour, jester, ruination, simply a _catalyst_ that walked into a situation, turned it upside-down and shook it, then walked right back out while the pieces settled.

She still wasn't sure what to think, but one thing had been made painfully clear: the Doctor did not create the cataclysms he walked into. Most of the time, he even averted them-- or ameliorated them, more usually. That was the same in every story; it was impossible to deny.

One night at a cocktail party, she met a drunken grad student who was going on and on about his dissertation. She was about to walk away-- what the hell did _she_ care about a Great and Bountiful Human Empire, especially as it patently wasn't either?-- when she heard another word she couldn't ignore.

"--then the bloody Daleks came and brainwashed--"

"Wait. Daleks?" she said, grabbing the grad student's sleeve to steady him. "They say the Daleks are a myth."

"They are," said the grad student. "They couldn't have been _real_ Daleks, of course. Those never existed. These just _called_ themselves Daleks."

"How d'you know they weren't Daleks if they _said_ they were?"

"Same as if they said they were vampires. I'm not that stupid."

She could've pointed out a dozen flaws in his logic, but it would be counterproductive. "What did they do?"

"Well, _first_, they subjugated our entire planet through television for like, five hundred years."

"How can a planet be subjugated through television?"

"Well, where else d'you get the news? Every household was required by law to buy a television and keep it on; the punishment was death. There wasn't any news, 'cept what they gave us: they told us we couldn't go outside, 'cos most days, it'd kill us. Maybe that was partly true, but what they did was make us all completely dependent on it. An' then they made the Gamestation."

"Gamestation?"

"Where they shot the programmes. All parodies of earlier stuff, 'cept when you lost, you died. Except you _didn't_ die, not really; they just took you an' stole your genetic material an' such and _then_ you were dead. Nobody knew that, of course. They didn't think they were prisoners. If they did, they never knew it was an alien race behind it. Until they came to Earth."

"And then?"

"They burned the whole planet," he said, bleakly. "From orbit. Changed the very continents. Killed ninety-five percent of the world's population in one swoop. Ghastly, it was. _And it's never in the textbooks!_ It _has_ to be recognized that--"

"But what happened?" she asked, before he could go off on another damned tangent about his dissertation.

"Bah. The only witnesses are the same idiots who said there were Daleks." He waved a hand dismissively. "Something stopped them. They said it was the Doctor. That old myth. Gets blamed for everything. What I can tell you is, no one knows. No one knows! No one even does _research_ on it! They're all, 'oh, it's too terracentric, it's passe, it's not multicultural enough, why don't you write your paper on the Klaxiar Invasion?' But it's _important_! Our civilization nearly _died_, an' they just want to ignore it 'cos it was _our_ planet and not someone else's!"

"But-- why would the Daleks destroy the whole planet?" she said. "There has to be a reason. There has to be something you-- they thought you did."

"Oh, you mean besides sit peacefully an' be enslaved by 'em for half a millenium? _Nothing_. We didn't do a damned _thing_ to 'em. Never met 'em before, never declared a war, never encroached on their territory, never did _anything_. That's probably why the survivors insisted they were Daleks. Still clinging to myth after a traumatic experience. The Doctor, the ultimate intercessor, as their saviour; the Daleks, the ultimate senseless evil, as their enemy. Quite understandable, really."

"What do you mean, about the Daleks?" she asked. "No race could _really_ be so violent without any provocation, could they?"

"Of course not. That's how we know they're a myth." He waved a hand dismissively. "An entire race, bent on destroying every other living thing in the universe... odd how the myth has developed on so many different planets. I suppose it's an instinct, a universal nightmare of evil..."

"The Daleks were... evil, then?" she asked.

"In all the legends, yes. Every single one. Exterminators, without mercy or compassion. Lucky for us they're not real."

"But it's... impossible. Impossible for _anyone_ to be so..."

"An entire race? No. But you know individuals can become abberant like that. It's happened many times before. Don't you remember?"

"...Of course," she said, and let him prattle on.

He didn't notice she wasn't paying attention anymore. No one ever did.

Because in the places she was living, other people didn't matter. All that mattered was your title, was your name.

Be a pretty little automaton; attend this ball; wear this dress; when you're ruler you can let the judges do this for you. The system's there to take care of the people. You're there to uphold our planet's reputation and pride.

_"Tradition's been slowly strangling you all your life, but you don't know what else you have." _

_"And if taking the blame would help you..."_

She wasn't sure she could hate him anymore.

But she was starting to realize she kind of hated herself.

And the evidence was piling up on the Doctor's side, wasn't it? All the stories about him and the myths about the Daleks and the fact that he had escaped the final judgment of her people--

--which was impossible-- unless--

--it actually happened-- not to be his fault.

She saw the more speculative stories the tabloid-channels ran about her link to the fate of Ynn'ai when the ratings dropped. She had learned the last one standing got the blame.

And maybe-- maybe that wasn't fair.

Maybe she'd been a fool, a fool of fools.

She visited the king's nephew (and heir; her standards weren't _that_ low) on Lyria; he was much more professorial than she'd expected. She'd been sitting in his office and siping some juice when he'd asked her, "What's your name?"

And she realized she didn't know quite what to answer. S'minia, 'Preserver of light'. K'arta, 'heir'. A'mini thi Kara thi Allana-Ynn'ai, 'Protector and Grand Leader of the Great-Destinied Ynn'ai'. Fury and Avenger. By Allana thrice-sainted, even _Reinette _meant 'Little Queen'.

She'd never _had_ a name, she realized. All she'd ever had were titles.

She didn't want that anymore.

When the salesman had told her she didn't really need the transdimensional stabilization system if she was only going to be jumping between planets, she'd inisted on having it installed anyway. "Just in case," she'd said. "You never know what might happen. Better to be safe."

A vile lie. She cared nothing about safety.

And truthfully? She didn't care about society, either. She'd tried to recreate her old life, her old role-- the rich it-girl who knew all the right people, went to all the right parties, took all the right pills-- but her old life was _dead_ and _gone_, and if it was time for her to face the truth, she'd never liked her old life in the first place.

And she was _free_ of tradition.

It was terrifying and painful and felt like a betrayal, but she was _free_.

And she wanted to go somewhere where nobody knew her name. She wanted to see the universe, see what life was really like, learn the truth the hard way, by going out with the people who were living it.

Sweet Alanna Intercessor, she wanted to be like the Doctor. Except perhaps with fewer catastrophes and less running down corridors. Allana all-holy, the cosmic catalyst had changed her like he changed every single thing else.

And impossibility of impossibilities, she _liked_ it.

She sat down in the pilot's seat, and it felt rather like hope. _To be the representative and reputation and pride of our whole planet, a more solemn responsibility now there's no one else to speak for us... I don't know if I can do that, but I have to try. And to be popular in the parties of the pampered-- that's no memorial. That's not something our people would be proud of. They would want more from us. They probably always did._

_I failed them then, but I won't fail them now. I'm older and wiser, and I shall represent the dead with honor, by doing the best I can. By doing something even vaguely _important_... Something even vaguely worthwhile._

"Destination?" the computer asked politely, in its deep, warm voice.

She hesitated once more, then plugged in the randomizer. "Out to find a name."

"Very good, ma'am," said the computer.

The engines hummed--

_Not too late to stop this, to come to your senses_--

And she made her leap of faith.

_Ynn'ai is dead. Long live Ynn'ai!_

(-)


	17. Epilogue:How They Dance in the Courtyard

Summary: Remember Rose's fellow shopgirl? No? Didn't think so. Well, too bad, you're finding out what happened to her anyway.

Notes: I know it's a bit iffy to center a... anything around an OC. You are, therefore, free to skip this epilogue completely, as it's not necessary, and it's probably a little self-indulgent anyway. Just make sure you remember-- there are two more epilogues, without a single OC in sight. I don't think this one is that terrible, though-- still, I'd understand.

(-)

_How they dance in the courtyard_

Molly Janson stood behind the counter, blinking helplessly in the general direction that Rose and her friend had gone. _...Hang on, what the hell am I supposed to do now she's wandered off like this?!_

She shook her head and let out a short breath, running a hand through her hair. _Am I being taken advantage of again? 'Cos I know sometimes I'm taken advantage of._

"Molly!"

_Speaking of which._ She turned to her boss, smiling pleasantly. "Yes, sir?"

"Where's that Rose girl?"

"Coffee break."

"Ah. Well, you can tell her when she gets back."

"Tell her what, sir?" Molly asked, carefully, a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. After all, her landlady had just hiked up her rent and she had to buy some new books for school. She had a feeling what might be coming.

"The... we're coming under new management."

"...And?"

"And they're going to renovate the store. New paint. New design."

"New sales staff."

"Yes."

She put a hand to her forehead. "So... I'm fired?"

"No. We need you here 'till next week."

"Do I still get my paycheck?"

"Oh, of course!"

Behind him, his secretary was walking out with a cardboard box in her hands. She shook her head and mouthed 'no'.

"Right," Molly said. "Well, then. Screw this." She grabbed her backpack and slung it over her shoulder.

"Hang on, you can't just--"

"Do you have any idea how many damn textbooks are in this thing? Do you really want to find out?" She hefted her backpack threateningly.

"I--"

"Also, you're an ugly wanker and I did NOT appreciate it when you slapped me on the ass all those times."

"I never--"

"Screw you!" She stormed toward the exit, feeling a flash of foreboding. Supopse the secretary had been lying?

No, there was Clive with her, the stockboy she had a crush on. Molly was safe.

"I can't believe it," said Clive. "Firin' us, just like that?!"

"Actually, it's a bit more complicated," said Joyce the secretary, looking grim. "He's been embezzling, and they've just launched an investigation into it. How'd you _think_ I knew we weren't getting our last checks back?"

"Hell and damnnation," Molly moaned. "Just when my rent goes up!"

"Really? God. You're having a bad week."

"You don't happen to know anywhere with an open position, do you?" Molly asked wearily, pushing her bangs out of her eyes.

"No, I'm sorry," said Joyce, sounding sincerely apologetic.

"Well. I'm pretty well screwed then." Molly smiled at them cheerfully. "So. What now. Hell."

"There'll be something for you," Joyce said. "I'm sure there will. You're really a fantastic worker."

"Thanks."

"I'm sure something will come up." She nodded decisively. "You'll be fine, I know it. I'll see you around."

"Uh-- all right." Molly waved back at Joyce and Clive, noting that this whole getting-fired thing was probably going to give Joyce a _fantastic_ conversation-starter with the 'hot stockboy'. Well, she wished her luck.

Molly sighed to herself and walked away, in the vague direction of the nearest Underground exit.

_Great. Just great. Now what do I do? Finding a damn job was hard enough the first time. Can't change apartments; too much of a hassle, and I think there might've been something in that damned contract she'd barely let me read. Probably 'cos I was dumb enough to tell her I was a law student. Damnnation..._

Molly sighed. She didn't really want to think about being a law student. It wasn't just the crazy hours she had these days, or the ridiculously high-priced textbooks, or even that she was so far from home...

_...Thing is, I just don't **like** it much. I really don't. All that damned obtuse language... I can deal with the principles, but all the purposeful obfuscation makes me want to throw the book down and scream, USE BLOODY ENGLISH! Just 'cos something's understandable doesn't mean it's imprecise! Or unscientific! Or unsophisticated! _

_Damn it, I thought I could deal with it. I know I can understand it, but I thought I'd deal with this, I thought I'd learn to like it._

_I think I was wrong. I don't want to do this anymore._

She sighed. That was all well and good, but how exactly was she supposed to get out of it? It just wasn't done... She had scholarships and passports and proud family back home, and wouldn't just going back taste a lot like defeat?

_And where would I go from there? Work? More school, without a scholarship this time? You'll put **that** on them?_

Molly sighed again. _Wait a sec, where exactly am I going?_

She turned around, looking for a clue as to where she was. _Bloody hell._

She was trying to figure out how to retrace her steps when she suddenly caught sight of a man in a leather jacket, wandering the other way. Dark hair, big ears-- the one who'd taken Rose out for coffee or whatever?

"Hey! Mister!" she called, waving her hand. That didn't help much, given that they were in the middle of London and he had his back to her.

She gritted her teeth. It was probably foolish to get herself even more lost than she was, but-- damn it, Rose was her only friend here, and she wanted to know where the hell she'd gone.

Molly strode after the black-jacketed man, and promptly got herself hopelessly lost.

After several blocks-- she hadn't been counting-- Molly was forced to admit that she'd totally lost track of the man ten minutes ago, and she didn't have the slightest clue where she was. Not to mention she was getting a bit tired. Stress and strange food and the apartment that seemed to be years away from everything but a crappy little pub had made her probably more fit than she'd ever been in America-- though she was still a little chubby and actually did have big bones-- but this was still rather pushing it, and she fought down her fear of getting lost.

Shade; she needed shade. She ducked into a small side-alley and leaned against the wall, closing her eyes.

When she opened them, she realized she hadn't been the only one with that idea. Against the other side of the wall were a strange man, wearing a khaki trenchcoat over what seemed to be the shirt and vest of a three-piece suit over jeans, and an oriental-looking girl in a school uniform, whose hair, except for two black strips that framed her face, was dyed blue. There seemed to be a sword at her back. Molly hoped to heaven that it wasn't real.

"Oh, hello," said the man, pushing his just-slightly-too-long hair behind his ear. "I'm the Doctor. Have we met before?"

"Is this-- _really_-- the time?" the girl panted.

"This sort of thing usually turns out to be important."

Molly thought back furiously, remembering that first night, when she'd agreed to tutor Rose in a pub. Bad idea; the shopgirl had had a terrible day and was quickly totally inebriated. As Molly awkwardly talked about functions, Rose had slurred something about the guy she'd traveled with-- the Doctor-- "Yeah, no other name, prob'ly makes 'im feel all manly"-- and how he'd dumped her for Madame du Pompadour, and how he had never, _ever_ been like that before-- "especially when he was the big-eared bloke with the Northern accent"-- and how he'd shown her all of time and space and terrible danger and "it's an addiction, really"-- and the song that kept playing in her head, and the nightmares of war and blood and death under alien skies--

"Do you know Rose?" Molly asked. "Rose-- Tyler, I think it is?"

"Oh, yes!" said the Doctor, a smile lighting up his face. "Rose Tyler. Yes, I remember her. Oh! Of course. You're that other shopgirl from when Tenth lost his marbles and dumped her in 2005. What was your name?"

"...Molly," she said, feeling a little dizzy. "Molly Janson." _If what Rose said was true..._

"Right. Sorry for just swanning off with no explanation there. It's sort of what I do."

"You can say that again," said the girl, straightening and rolling her eyes. "There's got to be something we can do!"

"We seem to have lost him; if we can get back to his ship--"

_You're fool enough to think you've escaped me so easily? And you claim the title Time Lord._

Molly jumped. "What the hell!"

_Do not move, humans. Your fate is already sealed._

"Wait, leave these two out of it!" the Doctor cried. "Rumiko didn't _mean_ to insult your mother--"

"--yeah I did!"

"--and this girl doesn't even know what's going on!"

_She already knows too much. She has heard me, has she not? I shall kill her already. Why don't you explain to her how you've killed her before she dies?_

"Actually--"

_That wasn't a suggestion._

"Right." The Doctor coughed, as the girl-- Rumiko-- turned her back to his, hand straying toward the sword at her back, scanning the alley for-- probably anything. "The voice you're hearing in your head is a Kahlat. Basically, it's a... sort of a psychic alien ninja, really. The truth is more complicated, but I imagine our friend wants me to keep it short."

_You figured that out all on your own?_

"Why is a psychic alien ninja attacking us?" Molly asked plaintively, backing toward the other two.

"Because we-- Rumiko and I happen to have interfered with its secret plot to take over all the world governments. It's very vindictive, you see."

_You have failed. When my transmission is sent, the rest of my clan will know how and where to attack._

"Which is why we were hoping to blow up his ship," the Doctor explained.

Molly tried desperately to understand this. Actually, even believing it would suffice. "When did I come into this?"

"When you came within a yard of me," the Doctor said, ruefully.

"It's a proximity effect," said Rumiko, eyes darting everywhere.

"Yes, it seems to be using classic villain logic. By happening to come across you, and thereby forcing it somehow to kill you, the responsibility for that, of course, is completely mine. Total idiocy, of course. Still hard not to buy into."

"Right," said Molly, moving instinctively in the protective circle they'd formed. Her heartbeat was rapid and loud with panic in her ears; her head, as always, was sweating buckets, causing her glasses to slip down her nose. She didn't dare push them back up. "Where is it?"

"We can't see it," said the Doctor.

"It's invisible?"

"No. It's psychic. It takes the image of what's behind it and projects it into our brains, so we can't see it."

Molly blinked-- then blinked again, quickly darting her eyes around. "It projects the background into our heads so it's seamless?"

"Right. Edits it out for us."

_I believe that is enough. It is wrong to not explain to people how they shall die, if the opportunity arises..._

"If we could just break its concentration..." the Doctor muttered.

"How?! We don't know where it is!" Rumiko yelled.

Molly slipped her glasses off with one shaking hand, folding them up. "Hold these for me?" she asked the Doctor.

The Doctor took them, blinking down at the slightly battered frames. "Why-- _oh_--"

"Oh, god help me," Molly breathed-- and threw herself with all her might to her left.

The mental yelp flashed through her brain as whatever the hell it was she had tackled fell to the ground under her. She scrabbled around desperately for its arms-- it'd had a gun--

_Stupid human bitch! How dare you!_

She grabbed its wrist and pushed it away from her as hard as she could-- the alien was scratching at her side, hitting her in the stomach-- "_Any time anyone would like to help me over here!_"

She couldn't hold its gun at bay much longer-- it was readying those claws to stab into her belly--

A sword at the green man's throat.

"I don't know if you've got a juglar vein," said Rumiko, "but I figure there's gotta be _something_ in there you don't wanna see severed. Drop. The. Gun."

The ninja glared at her and obeyed.

"Oh, thank god," Molly breathed, relaxing very slightly.

"Ah, _here_ we go--" The Doctor was at her other side, taking something from the alien's wrist. "Oh, look! A self-destruct button. Thank you so much for saving us the trouble!"

_Hah. You will never manage to penetrate the subtle workings of our--_

The Doctor took out a strange metal rod and pointed it at the control device.

"Self-destruct in two _rh'shim_," said a voice.

"You were saying?" said the Doctor, with a wide grin.

_...The message!_

Molly yelped as the ninja escaped her grasp, tumbling her to the pavement, disappearing from view again as it ran away.

"Don't worry," said the Doctor, "this monitors its life signs too. I'm afraid it may be just a little bit too close to its ship when it explodes. Regrettable..."

"But _I'm_ sure as hell not warning it," said Rumiko, sheathing her blade. "What did you say your name was? Molly Janson?"

"Yeah."

Rumiko bowed to her, deeply. "My name is Yamakata Rumiko. But after that, I'd say you can just call me Rumi-chan. How the hell did you find it?! I couldn't sense it at all!"

"Simple," said the Doctor, holding up Molly's glasses. "She's-- oh, dear lord. You're blind as a bat, aren't you?"

"Can I have those back?" said Molly, faintly stung, grabbing them from his hand.

"Blind?" said Rumiko, confused.

"Not blind, just _extremely_ myopic. Nearsighted." The Doctor shook his head. "I haven't seen lenses that thick since--"

"Nearsighted?" Rumiko said blankly. "I thought that was corrected at birth."

"2005," the Doctor reminded her.

"Oh. Wow. Dark Ages. Not that I should be complaining. Wait, what exactly just happened?"

"Whatever that thingy was doing..." said Molly, putting her glasses back on. "Projecting the background in our minds... it must have been assuming we all had normal vision. So when I looked over where it was, I saw a really suspicious blot of perfectly focussed things. And then I recklessly threw myself at it. Which may have been stupid. Ah well, it worked." She struggled to her feet. "Ow. Holy crap."

"I..." Rumiko shook her head. "Wow. I don't think you understand what you saved us from. That gun is really, _really_ painful." She kicked at it in disgust. "You were _fantastic_. Doctor, may we keep her?"

"Wha?" Molly blinked.

"She's not a puppy, Rumiko," the Doctor remonstrated. "We have to _ask_."

"Fine, fine, what I _mean_ is will you let her on?"

The Doctor paused, considering. "It's her choice."

"And if she says yes?"

"Says yes to what?" Molly asked, tottering back against the wall.

Rumiko turned to her. "See," she said, "this man has a machine that goes through time and space."

"Yeah," said Molly, "I think Rose said something about that."

The Doctor frowned. "She did?"

"She was really, really drunk."

"Ah. Say no more."

"And he can go _anywhere_," Rumiko continued. "All sorts of cool places. And all sorts of trouble. You know.. like this."

"This was a little scary," said Molly, listening to her heart rate slow back down.

"Well, yeah, but-- if we hadn't been here to stop it, what would've happened? Earth would've been taken over by those damn alien ninjas! That's what this guy does, as far as I can tell. He stops really, _really_ bad things from happening. And he's a little crazy, so he needs help."

"Oi!"

"Says Dr. Hung-by-his-Underwear-in-a-Tree-When-I-First-Met-Him."

"I was perfectly in control of that situation!"

Rumiko rolled her eyes. "The truth. Yeah, it's dangerous. And sometimes terrifying. But you get to _do_ something. You get to see real things, help real people... and it's really, really dangerous, but I think it's worth it."

_It would get me out of next month's rent..._

Molly shook her head violently. _I can't make this sort of decision based on THAT!_ "If it's so important... I probably shouldn't come. I mean, I'm not that athletic, I'm not that good under pressure, I'm not--"

"Did fine two minutes ago," said Rumiko.

"Speaking of which..." The Doctor turned. Right on cue, there was a faint explosion.

"...It's gone," said the Doctor, and put the scanner in his pocket. "It's over."

"See? You just saved the world." Rumiko grinned.

"No, I didn't."

"Yeah, you really did."

Molly blinked. "What would they have done?"

"Oh, slave camps to build their spaceships, eugenics programs, weeding out the infirm, the usual," the Doctor said, grimly.

"That really would've happened?"

"Yes."

"And now it won't?"

"Not today."

"...Oh." Molly considered this. "...You're sure I wouldn't be a liability?"

"As fast a learner as you are? Impossible."

"You're _sure_?"

He nodded. "And no, I'm not just saying that because Rumiko wants a pet."

"I..." Molly looked away, trying to assess this information. _I just nearly got killed by a space ninja... and tackled it and saved the people who were with me... and the entire planet... and..._

_I want to see things. I want to make a difference. I'm scared and lazy, but-- I still really do._

"You'll really let me?" said Molly.

"Yes."

"And I could come back someday?"

"Absolutely. Whenever you wanted."

"...Yeah, I lost my job, my rent went up, and I hate my school. My family'll understand. If they don't, well, they can just deal with it." She straightened. "Sounds nice to get the hell out of this place. May I come along?"

Rumiko grinned. "I knew it! Yes! Don't worry, you'll _love_ it." She grabbed her hand. "Come on! Let's get out of this city. I know this fantastic soba shop, satellite seven--"

"We just went there yesterday!"

"Time is an illusion. Lunchtime doubly so. And besides--"

"Don't you misquote Douglas Adams at _me_--"

"Yeah, yeah, 'cos you've been around like a billion years and saved everyone's life in the universe five times over and I say if you're gonna get us into trouble so often--"

"I don't get us into trouble!"

"--if you're going to get us into _trouble _so often, you can at _least_ take us somewhere nice for dinner afterwards!"

Molly had taken a ballroom dancing class once, her mother's idea, a rather silly mother-daughter thing. She still couldn't tango, but she remembered one thing.

"I do _not_ get us into trouble! Trouble is everywhere, we just stumble into it!"

When standing on the sidelines, you waited, and listened to the rhythms, until the upbeat caught you up.

And Molly found herself swept into the dance.

(-)


	18. Epilogue: So I Called Up the Captain

Notes: For some reason, this is the bit that took me the longest to finish. I don't know why. Probably Jack.

The phrase "carpe diem" comes from a poem by Horace. It refuses to stop coloring my view of the Doctor. Good or bad? You tell me...

(-)

_So I called up the Captain_

When he came to, he realized he was probably in trouble.

For one thing, he was pretty sure the last thing he remembered was being out on the streets of London, trying to covertly get Rose a replacement for that top she'd lost in that... coffee... incident. And how he'd managed to find his way to the floor of the TARDIS, he hadn't a clue.

Which meant: his memory had been erased. _Probably_ by himself, but you couldn't be too careful.

He got up and glanced at the console; sure enough, there was a note there. And, out of necessity, it was fantastically unhelpful. "TV NE QVAESIERIS". Latin-- hang on. First three words of the 'carpe diem' poem. 'Don't you ask, to know is forbidden'-- well, the significance of _that_ was fairly obvious.

"Seize the day, trust tomorrow as little as you can..." He murmured to himself, turning the paper over.

'I have it on good authority the new boy will turn out fine,' he'd written. 'So give him a break, will you? I shouldn't exist anymore in the first place; I should remember I don't have time to waste.'

He considered the paper for a few moments. _Wonder what happened to bring _that_ up..._

Still. The Doctor could, on occasion, take a hint.

It really was a fantastically beautiful day, and it was a shame he'd had to miss so much of it. A trifle muggy, perhaps, but a very interesting sky. And the sun was strong today; he liked Earth's sun. The cute little yellow-dwarf was comforting, the closest thing he had to a home. Actually, if you counted it all up, he'd probably spent much more of his life here than he ever had on Gallifrey... and it had always felt more like home, too.

This really was his home. That was why he felt so guilty about it. How could it be a mere coincidence that the planet he _really_ cared about had survived? It had to be his fault; there was no other possibility.

_Ought to be dead. Living on borrowed time, then... Bit like bushido, I suppose. Can't fear death if you already consider yourself dead. _

_Is that what I'm doing, then? That why I'm sticking around here so much, cleanin' up? Doin' what I can 'till death catches up with me?_

Bah, introspection. He'd never liked it. The view was so disorienting.

When he finally caught sight of them, he was thinking about second chances.

Hideously naive, he would've thought. Incredibly dangerous. If ever you had asked him (this year, at least), he would have said he wasn't a second-chances sort of guy. He'd learned about second chances, he figured he'd have said. They were just a second opportunity to get things wrong.

But no; that wasn't true. He'd spent nine centuries learning that wasn't true, and not even the Time War could negate it. After all, the Daleks had been on far more than just their second chance... and he hadn't been the one to give that chance to them, he really hadn't.

If only he'd realized before who had.

Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa, but it was all over now. And there wasn't any going back.

And the truth was, sometimes people needed a second chance. And a third, and a fourth, and a fifth, and a ninth, eh?

And trusting the pretty, smooth-talking, hustling wench couldn't really do him any harm. Not any that outweighed the possible benefits.

He still didn't like him, though.

He was still a little bit behind them, so he couldn't help but listen in.

"Well, yeah, it was probably a stupid thing to do," came Jack's voice, not particularly contrite, but not callous or boastful either.

"Why'd you do it, then?" Rose asked, still clearly all-too-infatuated by this man, but sounding fairly reasonable.

"I don't know. I guess I just couldn't think of anything else to try. Besides, what would _you_ do if you were wronged by-- what secret government agency do you have in 2005? UNIT? CIA? NSA? Nah, those last two are American. LDS?"

"LDS? What on Earth are the LDS supposed to be?"

"Ah. Cardiffgate hasn't happened yet. Come on, help me here, big powerful government agency in England."

Rose shrugged. As well she should; if it were really a secret agency, she wouldn't have heard of it, would she? "MI-5, maybe?"

"Well, the acronym sounds right, so let's roll with it. Say you work for MI-5--"

"You'd have to have a _lot_ more A-levels for that--"

"--and one day you discover they've wronged you. So you're mad, right? You're angry. You want revenge. But what the hell can you do to MI-5? They're a secret government agency. You can't tell people what you've been doing for them. If they can wipe your memory, they can have you killed. You can't destroy the agency. They'd stop you. Can't egg your supervisor's house-- well, actually, you can, but it doesn't help for that long. Can't screw your supervisor's wife-- well, you _can_, but same problem. What can you do?"

"What _can_ you do?"

"Nothing. Can't destroy them, can't hurt them, can't expose them. All I could think of to do was screw them out of money."

"After egging your supervisor's house and shagging his wife."

"Wives. And husband." Jack grinned.

Rose stared at him for a moment, smile slowly spreading across her face. "...Your century is _weird_."

"Thank you. So's yours. So, that's what I did. I left, and I started to con them. Then it grew. Then there were people who took the bait and weren't Time Agents-- then there were people who caught me-- then there were people I couldn't avoid around me who fell into the trap. Then there were the people I left; then there were the friends I never warned... But I didn't know what else to do."

"So what are you doing now?"

"Besides hanging around with you guys? I guess... I don't know. Living well is the best revenge. And... Well, weird things happen around you two. Maybe if I stick around long enough, we'll run into them again, and I can figure out how to make these things _right_ this time. Finally expose them. Get my memories back. Fix this mess. Hey, even in a week with you guys, I've seen stranger things."

"Yeah... me too. Don't worry about him. He acts all tough around you, but... He'll come around. If you don't do anything too stupid."

"What counts as 'too stupid'?" Like he was truly concerned about it. Maybe he was.

"Still working on that. Trying to steal information to make a profit, that's a big no-no. On the other hand, nearly destroying the universe is okay."

"Well, it's not as if you _meant_ it," the Doctor said, defensively. "He was doin' it to make money. You weren't. Didn't know what could happen 'cos I was too stupid to tell you. Should've known you couldn't just figure it out for _yourself_. It's all about the motive. You keep connin' people, you're out on your ear. Learn or leave."

"...How long have you been there?" asked Rose, sounding a bit frazzled.

"I'm just sayin'." He shrugged. "It's not like I'm _completely_ inscrutable."

"_Really_."

"I mean it!"

"Wait, you nearly destroyed the universe?"

"Oh, yeah, several times over by now. Why?" He blinked at Jack.

"I meant... yeah, never mind. You know, there's this fantastic Italian place on Outpost 14..."

"'Fantastic Italian Place'? I've been there. Lives up to the name. Except when it's blown up by dissidents."

"Yeah, service kind of went downhill that night. Given that the place had been blown up by dissidents."

"Hang on. You were there?"

"Yeah. _You_ were there?" Jack squinted at him.

"Why'd you _think_ they blew the place up?"

"I don't remember seeing you there."

"There was quite a lot of smoke. The place had just been--"

"--blown up by dissidents, yes, we've been over that. It's still strange I don't remember seeing you."

"Well, I saw you."

Because he had, now that he thought about it; a similar shilouette through the smoke, an identical voice. Standing near the exit, herding people through the doors, yelling at people to stay calm, proceed in an orderly fashion, acting so like an authority that everyone obeyed. No one had died, in that explosion he'd inadvertently half-precipitated. And a lot of that was probably his fault.

"You did?" Jack blinked. "Well, it was pretty busy. I guess it makes sense that I wouldn't remember you."

"I've changed a lot since then."

"Yeah. I probably have too."

"Not really, no."

Seeing a chance to regain control of the conversation, the Doctor took it while Jack was still trying to figure out if he'd been complimented or insulted. "C'mon, let's get out of here."

"I don't know if I wanna eat at a place that's been blown up by dissidents," Rose said warily.

"Doesn't bother you at the TARDIS kitchen table."

"Hang on, what?"

He just smirked, because it was London, Thursday afternoon, a beautiful day that would never come again. A good day for dancing. A good day for not looking back.

What had brought the lesson on, he didn't know-- probably didn't want to.

But he was listening.

(-)


	19. Epi: You Can Check Out Any Time You Like

Notes: As you can see, I'm not anti-Mickey either. Poor guy. Heh. (The first bit of this was _so_ much fun to write... last joke took me by surprise...) Again, Ten probably behaves (strangles cough) more like Nine than he should. Sorry.

To everyone who reviewed, thank you for your support! (At least, I hope it was all support-- I don't upload stories until they're completely finished, so I've only seen the reviews for the first couple chapters.) This one's a bit less structured and ideologically controversial than some of my other stories, so, as fond as I am of it, I was a bit worried. I'm always a bit worried, but... yeah. Again, thank you so much. I hope someone enjoyed it.

And now, to the last chapter, with the line no fic called 'Hotel California' could leave out...

(-)

_You can check out any time you like... _

As it turned out, the Doctor had been just as distracted when he'd left Mickey as he had been when he left Rose.

"There were _guns_," he half-stammered, as they escorted him into the TARDIS.

"Yes, and I really am sorry," the Doctor said, looking miserable.

"There was a revolution an' they arrested anyone who wasn't a citizen on suspicion of terrorism and they had _guns_."

"I'll make it up to you, I promise."

"They locked me up with a guy named Large R'sharn. He was really, _really_ short. He kept _looking_ at me."

"Seriously," he said. "I apologize profusely. I'll do the best I can to make it up to you. How about a nice cup of tea? Tea always helps."

Mickey shuddered. "D'you have any idea what 'tea' was prison slang for?!"

"No, and I would be eternally grateful if you didn't tell me. Come on, now. We'll get you a nice, non-communal shower and some clean clothes and some tea and some chocolate and we can watch all the Tom Hanks movies you-- oh, hang on. That wouldn't work for you."

"Not being a _girl_!" Mickey yelled.

"Seriously, I'm sorry! I don't have much experience with men."

"Oh, just-- just get _away_ from me, you _bastard_." Mickey tugged himself out of their grip and hurried away.

"...Well," sighed the Doctor. "_That_ was a total failure."

"Actually, I thought it went pretty well," Rose said, thoughtfully. "I was expectin' him to slug you. As long as I keep 'im away from the cricket bat, I think he'll be fine."

The Doctor sighed and walked over to the control panel. Rose was halfway out of the room following Mickey when he quietly said, "Are you?"

She hesitated, then kept walking away.

As usual, he'd hit upon the biggest question in the room.

-

The next day, she caught him fingering his old jacket in the console room.

"It's just, I have to wonder," he said, not looking over at her. "Was he right? Am I completely daft? Have I chucked everything I've ever known straight out the window? 'Cos I never thought so before, but-- I've been pretty spectacularly stupid, lately. Seein' Mickey, I can't take a step without hearin' a pachinko machine."

"...No," he said, after a moment, "I still don't believe it. It's just-- he looked so damned _disappointed_. Is that really what I've become?"

He was _far_ too good at finding the questions. She just wished she had half as much talent finding the answers.

She made sure she was gone by the time he turned around.

-

It was three in the morning, and she was awake.

The funny thing was, she'd been asleep a second before. And she didn't remember waking up. She just... _was_, now, staring up at the ceiling with a strange deep sense of peace.

_I wanted to apologize. It was the only way to make sure you'd understand._

"Yeah," she said. "I know."

_But you don't. Not all of it. Oh, Rose, there was another message there. Rose, you looked into me, and I looked into you. We were one in thought and purpose, and I know you don't remember. But you know what the Doctor was saying about nonlinear time? And how even he can't understand it?_

"Yeah..."

_Dearest Rose, I'm not linear. It's hard for me to even understand that things happen in an order where you live. And the only reason I've ever been able to is you._

"Me?"

_We were one. It may be over for you, partly, but for me it had already happened, would always happen, is still happening. I was you, and you were me. And... it's so hard to understand why this is hard for you... you still are. You were with me in every moment of the universe, beginning to end. We saw it together, watched every atom, watched every civilization live and die. We are seeing it together. We have seen it forever. You let me become you, so we could save our Doctor. And you, Rose dearest, became me._

Rose frowned, trying her best to understand. "You're sayin'... I could see everythin', all at once... so that means I had to _be_ everywhere, t'see it... and every_when_?"

_Yes, that's it._

"An'... if I was in every time... that means I was in this time, too?"

_Yes, dear Rose._

"An... every other time? Past an' future?"

_Yes_.

"So any time I looked, I could see me. You mean... we're everywhere, forever?"

_Yes_.

"Me at nineteen, with you, we're everywhere? An' in the past, too... Before it even happened..."

_Yes_.

"...Did I just repeat everyfing you'd told me, just in different words?"

_Yes._

"Sorry."

_Sorry? Don't be. I know how hard it is for you to understand. The experience of it would have killed you; I am wiser than to expect you to understand it in a moment. Perhaps even in a lifetime._

"So... why are you telling me this?"

_Because you need to know. We'll always be connected, Rose, because I always have your past self within me. Which is how I could contact you so easily. And, Rose... that isn't going to end._

"...What do you mean?"

_Like the song, my Rose. You can leave the TARDIS at any time you want. But your past will still be here, and your future will still sense me._

Rose shuddered, breathing coming slightly more quickly, still staring at the ceiling. "So, that was your other message. I can check out any time I like. But-- I can never leave."

_My dearest Rose. It's the price you paid for him. Do you think now it was a mistake?_

"...No," she said, shaking her head. The reason she'd come back to save him in the first place; the universe needed the Doctor. He was good and necessary and the great catalyst of the universe, saving all sorts of situations that would've ended in disaster.

He blamed himself for all the bloodshed that had taken place after he arrived, but the truth was, there would be far more dead without him. He didn't realize it, but the very universe would've burned down to ashes. And he was good at it, and it was what he was, and he was still the Doctor. Always would be.

No matter how stupid he'd been, he was still in there. The special person she cared so much about.

_And we will always be there for him, as we have been already. Sleep well, dearest Rose. And seize tomorrow. The time you have is limited..._

Because she couldn't remember it, but she'd already lived an eternity.

Rose shook her head, and settled down into unsettling dreams.

-

Someday, her echoes will remain here, warning, rememberance, blessing-- and he'll never realize just _how_ much she's still here until it's almost too late. But that's the way it should be.

Someday, just in time, he'll hear the echoes of her voice, and he'll understand.

_"The truth is, it's an intergalactic roadtrip through space and time. Different from a regular roadtrip in subtle but very important ways, chief among which are a) we never know where the war zones are, and b) there's only one person in the universe who knows how to drive the car. _

_One false step, and we could wind up being tortured in an alien prison 'cos we stepped on the wrong color cobblestone. One false step, and he could be gone and leave us stranded on an alien planet, with no money, no common language, and no way to ever get home. _

_That's the risk we take. An' I'm still up for it. Are you?"_

Someday, just before the end, he'll remember, a scene among many other scenes.

_"Okay-- the truth. You're different. It scares me. An' maybe not all of it's an improvement. But I'm still here. An' so are you. An' maybe it's hard, but that makes it worth it."_

_She smiled at him, and everything was all right-- maybe too all right, maybe he never had doubted anything in that particular incarnation, and god knew that had turned out to be a hideous liability, but it was easier to understand why when he remembered that smile._

_"C'mon. Let's go find trouble."_

_And they did._

(-)


End file.
